


Hell or High Water

by LaurytheLatrator



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone is a motherflipping pirate, F/F, F/M, Pirate!Emma, Pirates, Very Loose Interpretation of Canon and Familial Relations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurytheLatrator/pseuds/LaurytheLatrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You'd make a hell of a pirate."</i>
</p><p>Captain Killian Jones has a run in with the pirates of the ship <i>Storybrooke</i> that results in an unusual and tenuous alliance with the elusive Captain Swan. He finds himself drawn in by something he never thought he'd experience again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've been working on for a while. It stems from a very loose interpretation of Fairytale Land canon. I draw heavily from the Golden Age of Piracy in our world, and there's a lot about ships and sailing, so feel free to look things up ([this](http://pirates.hegewisch.net/nautical_lexicon.html) is a good resource I used).
> 
> Also, to get you in the mood, here's some pirate!Emma edits I adore: [this](http://laurythelatrator.tumblr.com/post/91090229138) and [this](http://laurythelatrator.tumblr.com/post/92444149678). Both links go to my tumblr, so check that out as well.

 

"Why the bloody hell have you dropped anchor?" The ruthless Captain Killian Jones barked at his first mate.

"That wasn't his doing!" A high voice called out from the seas. He, and several members of his crew, leaned over the gang rail. They could hardly see but for the mist rising off the water. Off the starboard side, a red headed lass poked out of the turbulent waves. She waved jauntily, then dove back into the deep, a scaled tail splashing in her wake.

"Mermaid." One of the men said with frightened reverence. Killian spun away, striding swiftly aft to the wheel, but another sound stopped him. Punctures splintering in wood, like something climbing up the side of his ship. Sure enough, with impossible agility, someone vaulted over the rails of the port bow. The figure was hidden momentarily by the hood of their red cloak, but they stood and threw back the hood.

"Why, she's a lady!" Another man so intelligently observed. Killian moved cautiously forward.

"Speak," He commanded to her, "Or be thrown to the beasts below." The woman, with long straight brown hair spilling over her cloaked shoulders, grinned widely.

"Those aren't the beasts you should be worried about." She told him, and in a second she had drawn a dagger and advanced. Killian jumped back, a welcome thrill running through his veins. The woman did not attack again, her eyes scanning the ship, presumably counting his crew. "Prepare to be boarded." She said, gesturing over the port side. Killian followed the movement, and dread filled him as, through the mist, a ship emerged. She bore a black flag with a skull holding a red rose between its teeth. She was close, and would be on them in minutes.

"You do not want to start a war with us." Killian said with confidence, but inwardly he knew that mist had not been natural. His was a skilled crew, but they could not counteract magic. It would be his wits and charm that would save them now. So, Killian gave her his best smoldering look. "And we do not want to spill the blood of a vision as a lovely as you."

"Chivalry will only get you dead." The woman in the red cloak growled, her dagger thrust out and teeth bared. "Fight and die!"

Wary, but still wearing a smirk, Killian drew his cutlass. "If the lady insists." He said, holding his hook hand behind his back, in a measure of fairness. The woman's eyes gleamed with eager temerity.

He gave her a warning swing of his cutlass, but she did not flinch. Suddenly he lunged forward, and she parried, not giving an inch. He coupled a reprise with a side-step, which she met and mirrored. He'd been going slow so far, but once he deemed her guard down he thrust with a series of cuts, all of which she blocked or evaded. Together they traversed the deck, Killian keeping a weather eye open for any advantage his ship might give him. Finally he caught her after a feint, his cutlass catching under her point and dislodging her grip.

"Good form," Killian remarked, kicking the dagger away and keeping the tip of his blade to her neck. "But I'm afraid that in sword fighting, size really does count." There was a thunk on the port beam, and Killian tensed but dared not remove his eyes from the woman.

"You may wish to rethink that, sir." A clear feminine voice rang out. Still he did not turn, but he felt his crew draw back, and many more footsteps upon his deck. They were being boarded, the other ship must be abreast. Killian stepped starboard, the red-clad woman circling with him, so that he could see the intruders behind her.

There were four more women all wearing breeches and armed with swords and pistols. Like the one in the red cloak, three were brunette, but one was blonde, her hair long, flowing free in the choppy air. She wore a brown leather coat that fell all the way to the deck, longer than his own. They were all undeniably beautiful, but it was the blonde who caught his eye. While the rest of her party had hardened faces and tensed bodies, the perfect image of those prepared to kill, the blonde was calm.

Staring at her, Killian straightened from his fighting stance and dropped his cutlass. The women encircled his crew, and with one flick of his hand, he signaled to them not to engage. Though it pained his men, particularly his first mate, they allowed the women to round them up. The woman in red swiped up her dagger victoriously and motioned for him to join his crew. He did so, mostly, keeping a pace in front of them.

There was a tense moment as both crews waited for someone to move. Killian may have had an ace up his sleeve, his hook hand in his pocket, but he could probably only take one or two before being gunned down. Then his crew, the men who had pledged their lives for him, would be shown no quarter. No, he was not willing to risk it, not yet.

"My my, this is a handsome ship." A snide voice came from one of the brunettes he couldn't see.

Killian couldn't resist. "Are you referring to _the Jolly Roger_ or its men, because both are true."

"Funny." The red-cloaked lass said, deadpan.

"Foolish." A different brunette countered, her corset a robin's egg blue above her white breeches. The blonde hadn't spoken, choosing instead to cast her gaze over his ship. He imagined he could feel her scrutiny upon himself. There was danger coming off her in waves, but he had never been accused of being safe.

"You must be the sirens we were warned about." Killian remarked, stepping forward so the eyes of the women focused solely on him, rather than his crew. As he'd hoped, this included _her_.

The blonde in the brown leather tilted her head with a sharp smile. "You were warned away, and yet here you are." Her voice held no lilting accent like his own. She was direct and poised even in tone.

She stepped forward as well, and the leather duster parted to reveal creamy thigh above her knee high boots. Killian knew his gaze tarried at that slip of leg, far too obviously perhaps but he would not trade the sight for his safety.

"Tell me," The woman said, with a casual toss of her blonde locks, "What were these warnings too mild for you to heed?"

Killian drew himself up to his tallest height, looking at the woman before him. There was challenge in her eyes that he was loathe to ignore. However, his pride was not the only thing on the line. He had the lives of his crew in his, well, _hand_. So, he gave the siren a smirk, to show that he very well knew what game they were playing, and dipped into a bow, arms out with a flourish.

"They spoke of a vessel manned only by ladies of unparalleled skill and beauty." He said, chancing a glance up to gauge their reactions. Several of the women shifted, a couple with interest, but most with scorn. Interesting. "The men in the tavern speculated that this was a ship of broken hearts, choosing to kill men before they had a chance to fall in love with them." Killian rose from his bow, watching the blonde intently. She was unmoved by his statement. Dipping his head with respect, he added, "But I see now that this is not the case."

"Do you?" The blonde said without care.

"Oh yes." Killian agreed, stepping forward into her space. Tension spiked, and not merely between them; the other women were obvious in their instinct to defend her, and that is what proved to Killian without a doubt that he was speaking to their Captain. Unlike her crew, the Captain looked perfectly at ease standing toe to toe with him, and that piqued his interest. "What I see before me now," He went on, purposefully pitched low and intimate, "Are intelligent women who learned that piracy is its own reward." His eyebrow quirked up. "In that we are in agreement, Captain."

She replied without a beat of hesitation. "It seems we are, Captain." They stood there for a moment, eyes locked intently, sizing the other up. Killian couldn't keep his gaze settled on one area of her face. It was all beguiling, be it the steely wit in her eyes, the flesh of her cheeks seemingly untouched by the sun, or the rouge across her lips which seemed to beckon with its upturned corners.

There was a cough from behind her, a feint for attention, and the Captain turned from him to regard one of the other women. This was one had black hair piled atop her head, her curvy figure clad all in black. She had a coldness to her that suggested to Killian that she was versed in magic.

The Captain merely had to look at the woman's impatient expression to understand her meaning. She nodded and returned to attentions to him.

"You and I understand each other." She asserted, and Killian nodded, remarkably pleased by the admission. "Then you must understand why I cannot permit you and your ship to remain in our waters."

"And just where, may I ask, do your waters begin and end?" He inquired, nearly forgetting to keep up the veneer of niceties.

The Captain's eyes flashed with pride. "We claim all coast 20 leagues east, and 80 leagues west of here. The distance we keep from the shore depends on the season." There was a rumble of hushed tones from behind him, but Killian did not let his admiration show. 100 leagues was a fair bit of territory for a single crew to hold.

"Perhaps we might go around you lot," Killian said with a smirk, "This is the Endless Ocean, after all."

There was a snort from one of the women, a dark haired, round faced beauty in exotic armor. "Hardly." She said with an indifferent stare.

"My compatriot means," The Captain spoke up, purposefully drawing attention away from her crew just as he had before, "That where these kingdoms see an Endless Ocean, others see a path untraveled." Killian swallowed the questions he yearned to ask — had this lot traversed the Endless Ocean? — and focused on the matter at hand.

"There are multiple bounties on our heads to the east, and royal patrols with the express mission of finding this ship." A serious note creeping into his voice, he asked, "I take it you are not amenable to letting us be on our way through your waters?"

The Captain titled her head with a frown. "And should you come upon a vessel with precious cargo? Your gain is our loss."

"Try something new, darling," Killian dared her, "It's called trust. My men and I have riches a plenty at the moment, the gambling and women at the last port being not up to snuff. We have no quarrel with you."

"Nor us with you." She replied, and he was glad of that to be sure. Pirates had a code, one that Killian did his best to honor, and it was a good sign that this Captain did as well. "Tell you what," She said, "I'll confer with my company on my ship, and I will return with my decision soon." Her chin raised defiantly. "And should you take advantage of my diplomatic nature, on my ship are two archers of formidable skill who can and will kill you if you flee."

" _The Jolly Roger_ is a swift lass." Killian said with a smirk. "Perhaps we may test your archers against her speed another day."

The Captain gave a firm nod of assent and, trusting that her crew would follow, strode to the gangplank and crossed over to her ship. The rest of the sirens trailed after, some casting malicious or curious gazes at him and his crew as they left. Immediately his first mate came to his side.

"What's the plan?" David asked. "How do we evade them?"

Killian drew a long breath. "We don't."

"What?" Another of his crew piped up. "We're really not going to fight? Cap'n, they're just women, trousers or no."

Killian rounded on the dimwitted crewman, his jaw hard. "Do not forget the power of women, mate. _The Jolly Roger_ is my girl and the sea is my mistress, and both have a terrible temper." He looked out at the neighboring vessel. "This crew has magic and mermaids at their command. You do not want to take them on. Their Captain is a reasonable lass, but if it should come to blows, it shall be between me and her. No collateral damage spilling blood on my ship." As he said it, he rather hoped it didn't come to a duel. Not because killing that Captain would be regrettable. Killian was certain they were rather evenly matched, and he did not want to put himself to that test.

He turned to address his crew as a whole. "In the unlikely event that I should fail to dispatch this lass as Captain, I order you to submit to her rule, and not let your indignant tongue run off about working under a woman." He leaned against the rail beside the gangplank. "While you lot would hardly match the loveliness of her crew, I trust she has the mercy to drop you off at the next port."

"Quite right, Captain." The now familiar even voice said from behind him. Killian looked up over his shoulder to see her blonde head haloed by the sun. She had come alone this time, a sign of trust that he was glad to see. She hopped down from the gangplank onto the deck, her coat flying up to give another glimpse of her legs. 

When she spoke she addressed him, but her voice carried so that all of his crew could hear. "We are willing to escort you through our waters. You will be safe from us and at the end we shall part amicably, granted you never return."

Killian mulled the offer over. It was fair, more fair than most pirates would give. However, he sensed a catch. "With your ship ahead and ours behind? Our guns trained on your stern? Seems awfully trusting of you, Captain." She smiled thinly, and he knew he'd been correct.

"That is why we ask you join us on our ship, _Captain_." She replied.

"As your prisoner." Killian added darkly, hand resting on his belt buckle within reach of his pistol.

"No. My guest." His raised brow gave away his surprise, and she chuckled, raspy like sea salt. "You'll have room in the berth and dine with my crew and be treated well, I assure you."

He grinned, ducking his head to look up at her through kohl-lined lids. He spoke softer, so his words stayed between them. "Sure this isn't merely an invitation to your quarters? There're easier ways to tempt a man to bed, darling."

Predictably, the blonde rolled her eyes. "Take it quickly, sir, or leave it and be blasted apart and left for the squids."

"I would feel more comfortable leaving my ship if you had incentive not to attack her as well."

She inclined her head, considering that. "A trade? My first mate for a Captain?"

Killian leaned closer, and she did not back away. "I'm amenable." He murmured to her alone. "But I must make sure my first mate agrees."

"Of course," She said with a nod, "I'll wait here."

"Shan't be but a moment, love." Killian assured her with a wink. He turned away from her exasperated expression to find his first mate a couple paces away. Coming to David's side, he relayed the offer.

"It could be a trick, Captain."

"I'm aware of that, Nolan." He conceded. "But don't you forget, I can fend for myself. In the event of treachery, at the very least _the Jolly Roger_ would be safe in your hands."

"I don't like it, but I'll stand by your command." That was David to a tee: opinionated yet loyal. He'd had his doubts about such a clean cut man trying to escape on a pirate ship, but he'd never regretted taking him on.

"Think you can handle her first mate?" Killian asked with a challenging tip of his chin.

David looked at him unamused, putting his hands on his hips. "I'll manage."

"Good." Killian said, about to take his leave. He went on in a louder voice. "Keep her safe, and keep the lads in line."

"Aye aye, Captain." David replied with no little amount of biting sarcasm. Killian returned to the blonde's side.

"Ready?" She asked, face impassive. He leaned back casually, hand going again to his belt buckle.

"Ah, before I depart my ship," He countered with a teasing smile, "May I get your name, Captain?"

She looked him up and down, and for a second he didn't think she'd answer. "Swan." She said simply. Killian extended his hand palm up, and after a moment of hesitation, she lay her hand in his. He bowed, the second time since meeting this woman, to kiss her knuckles. They were rough with many small scars, yet soft from the sting of the salt air.

"Killian Jones." He told her. Her eyes, glittering like fine jewels, flitted over his face. "A pleasure, milady." Killian said as he lowered her hand. There was a moment when she looked down at his left wrist. The hook was stuffed in his coat pocket, but her glance told him that she had heard of him.

She said nothing in response to his charms or withholding his moniker, merely turning to step onto the gangplank. With a cocky salute to his crew, Killian followed her.

Hers was a gorgeous ship, he could freely admit that; a brig, square-rigged like his own, made of fine wood painted in colors of white, red, and black, and impeccably clean and free of brine or barnacle damage. Killian hopped down from the gangway, and took in her crew. There were the same four women he'd seen before, with two he hadn't. One woman with closely shorn black hair was at the helm. Another with light brown wavy locks stood by the bow, a quiver of arrows on her back and a bow in her hand.

"Captain Jones has agreed to stay with us until we reach free water." Swan announced to the waiting women. She gestured to the helmsman. "Mary Margret, you'll be going over to his ship. A gesture of good faith."

"Fair enough." The black haired lass, Mary Margret apparently, came down from the quarter deck. She paused to clap a hand on her Captain's shoulder, a look passing between the two women that was more affectionate than mere respect. As Mary Margret left, the Captain strode to the stairs up to the helm.

"Captain Jones, Belle will escort you to your cabin and show you the galley." Once she had her hands on the wheel, she spared him a glance. "As our guest, you are permitted anywhere you like. But stir up trouble and my crew will be more than happy to tie you and leave you in the bilge for the duration of our stay."

"And how long do you anticipate this journey to take?" Killian called up to her.

She was already pulling ahead of _the Jolly Roger_. "Going with the wind as we are and granted a leeward tide, should be three days." He nodded at that, considering it matched with the 80 league figure she'd given before. The lady in the blue corset, Belle, approached him.

"Lead on, Lady Belle." Killian said with a smile. She seemed unmoved by his charms, more curious than anything. Belle took him to the hatch that lead below deck, and together they descended.

Quietly she lead him through the low-ceilinged corridor of the berth. One of the closest doors she opened to reveal the mess. There was enough space for a work table, and just a ways away a dining table with room for a dozen seats. By the pantry there was an elderly woman hacking at a huge slab of meat with a cleaver. She looked up at them through her spectacles.

"Fresh meat?" She asked Belle. Killian eyed the meat cleaver with suspicion.

"This is Captain Jones of _the Jolly Roger_." Belle supplied. "Jones, this is Granny, our cook." Granny grunted and returned to her duties, her knife coming down with frightening force. Belle lightly put her hand on his arm to guide him out. "You're welcome to visit and request something." She told him, but Killian shook his head, not wanting to be alone with that woman. "We dine in three bells, you'll want to be there. Granny has a problem with people who skip dinner only to steal food later."

"She's rather old to be on a ship, isn't she?" Killian remarked disdainfully.

Belle shot him an amused glance. "Don't let her catch you saying so. She's spry." They came to another door, and Belle knocked and waited. Killian wasn't sure what part of the tour this was. The door opened, and he looked down to see a young lad of no more than 10 years. The boy's eyes widened upon seeing him.

"Whoa," He said, taking in all of Killian's ensemble, "Who's he?"

"Captain Killian Jones," He answered before Belle could, "Of _the Jolly Roger_." He held out his hand for the lad to shake.

"Henry," He replied with a wide smile, "Of the ship _Storybrooke_. What're you doing here?"

"Your Captain Swan has been gracious enough to grant us safe passage through her waters." Killian said, glancing at Belle.

"Killian is going to be staying in your cabin." She told Henry, grinning warmly.

"I'd hate to put the lad out of a room." Killian said, looking at her. Deciding to have a bit of fun, he added a leer and said, "Perhaps one of you lasses could be persuaded to share?" Belle was again indifferent to his remarks, aside from a slight tightening of her brow.

"It's no problem." Henry piped up, nose wrinkled in distaste or confusion at the innuendo. "Let me just grab some stuff."

"I'll leave Killian to your care." Belle said, turning to go. Killian smirked at her and waved at her retreating back. Looking back at the lad, he gestured for him to lead the way.

Henry held the door open, and Killian entered. It had a single bunk beneath the porthole, a shelf lined with books, and a chest at the other corner. Henry went to the chest and started pulling out clothes. At a bit of a loss, Killian sat on the bunk.

"So, Henry," He began politely, "What are your duties aboard this ship?"

The lad's whole face brightened. "I turn the hourglass and ring the bells! I'm always really reliable, I know how long I can leave it before it gets low. And Aurora's been teaching me knots, so pretty soon I'll be able to help with the rigging and everything!" He sounded so excited that Killian had to chuckle.

"Aye, I was a cabin boy when I was a couple years older than you. I had the duty of turning the glass as well. Once I fell asleep and missed announcing the shift change by 2 bells. Got the worst lashing of my life." Henry's scandalized expression told him exactly how different this lad's life was from his own experience on a ship.

"No way. My mom would never let that happen to me."

Killian raised an eyebrow. "Your mum is aboard?"

"Well, yeah." Henry shrugged, this time reaching for a book on the shelf. He rolled it up in the clothes so he could carry his load easily. "But ever since we found this ship, it's been more like the whole crew is my family, you know?" Killian didn't really, not when he thought about how he was raised, but he supposed he could imagine. "Anyway," Henry said as he crossed to the door, "It's nice meeting you, Killian. I'm sure we'll talk again soon."

"Right you are, lad." He replied with a nod and a smile. "And thank you for granting me your cabin." Henry left with a skip in his step.

Killian looked around the small room, unused to being idle. On a whim he scanned through the boy's books, plucking a title he hadn't heard of. Thankfully it was meant for adults, and he slogged through the first thirty pages of listening to a bored princess' plight before he had to put it down. Nothing could be farther from relatable.

Well, he figured with a mischievous shrug, devil's plaything and all that.

He emerged from the cabin and, after locating the head and relieving himself, went aloft. The main deck wasn't busy, but it still held several crew members at their posts. Belle was swabbing the deck by the bow. The light haired brunette who had carried a quiver was inspecting the rigging by the starboard side, the armored one checking on the port side. Their activities were monitored from the main mast by the cold black-haired witch, who Killian inferred to be the boatswain. By the helm was Captain Swan, guiding her ship gently with the wind. She was wearing a tricorn hat of similar brown leather to her coat, shielding her face from the sun low in the sky.

"You again." The witch remarked when she caught sight of him. Killian went to join her by the mast. "What do you want?" She demanded sharply, her eyes once again fixed on the crew.

"Company." He replied honestly. "I'm not one for laying about. Perhaps I may assist you."

"If you think I'm letting you touch my sails, you've taken too much sun." She snapped, arms crossed.

Killian shrugged. "Your choice, but remember that I offered." They said nothing for a moment. The ship was rolling gently despite their admirable speed. "May I get your name, darling?" The witch gave the question much consideration.

"You may address me as Regina." She decided finally, gracing him with a glance.

"Killian." He returned, but she shook her head.

"I'll stick with Jones, thanks."

"You seem a formidable lady, Regina." He noted. "Am I correct in assuming it was you who conjured the mist that cloaked this vessel earlier?" Her posture stiffened, but her face was blank except from a twist of her lips into a sneer.

"That was me, yes." She answered haughtily. "Worked well, didn't it?"

"It did at that." Killian agreed, eyeing her curiously. "Most ships aren't lucky enough to have a witch among them. I wonder, what made you choose this life?"

Regina looked over at him briefly, then back at her crew. She barked out an order quickly, "Mulan, run the foresail, let her unfurl!" The armored one, Mulan, hastened to comply. With smooth movements she slackened the sails, letting them catch more wind and increase their speed. Satisfied, Regina answered. "What makes any of us choose? Honest work gets you little and privateering gets you much." Killian swept his eyes over her, and privately doubted she'd ever done an 'honest' day's work. Still, he knew when to push, and this was not the time.

"And just how much does your band take in in these waters?" He asked instead, sweeping out with his hand over the deck of the ship. That earned a supercilious smirk from her.

"More than you could fathom, Jones." Regina replied, turning her body toward him, getting in his space. It was meant to be an intimidating gesture, but Killian only grinned blithely.

"Captain Jones!" The sharp command made him look up on instinct. Swan was still at the wheel, gazing out at the horizon before her, but her attention, he could tell, was upon him alone. "Are you trying to poach my boatswain?"

Without a second thought, Killian left Regina's side and climbed the steps to reach the Captain. "Not at all, Swan." He assured her, stopping at the wheel and leaning against the rail so he was facing her. "I'm merely taking a healthy interest in your crew."

Swan raised a brow. "I bet you are." She said with a slight frown, despite the playful innuendo in her voice.

"If you like," He offered, with a devilish smirk and artful pose, "I could focus all my inquires on you."

"Oh Gods help me." Swan vowed, looking up to the heavens with exaggerated pain. Killian laughed, ducking his head. When he looked up again it was to see Swan glancing quickly away. He noted that, but didn't comment.

"It's easy enough to understand why men choose to go off and pillage and plunder." Killian remarked, getting back to the original conversation. "But ladies such as yourselves are a different matter."

"You think women are an entirely different species?" Swan challenged with some irritation, grunting as she held fast through a small turbulent pocket of water. "Are men's motivations not good enough for us?"

"I suppose you have a point." He conceded somewhat. "But an entire ship crewed by women speaks to some larger mission." Killian paused, then corrected himself. "Well, not entirely women."

The Captain shot him a glance. "Meaning?"

"Your cabin boy, Henry." There was a tightening to her expression that told him to tread carefully. "Seems a happy lad, happy to be working. He's far from what I was when I first served swain to pirates." Killian watched her shoulders relax, and Swan smiled thinly at him.

"Yes, he's a great kid. He tackles every new lesson and duty like it's a game. We all love him here."

"It shows." That was the last Killian would say on the matter for now. They stood in silence for a while, the billowing sails and crashing sea the only sounds. Out of habit, Killian kept his eye on the bit of cloth she had tacked on the railing, an indicator of the wind's direction. They were lucky conditions were fair, the ship was reaching great speed.

He pulled out his spy-glass and strode to the aft rail. His ship was clearly within view, her speed about equal to the _Storybrooke_. Using his glass, he could make out David at the helm, with Mary Margret beside him in much the same manner as he and Captain Swan. However, the first mates seemed to be squabbling, nothing alarming so as to suggest treachery, but rather like an old married couple. Killian trusted David with his life, and more than that his ship. He lowered the spy-glass, content in the knowledge that all was well, and spun around to regard the captain.

If possible, she was even more beautiful from behind. Her coat and hair were swept up by the leeward wind, blonde locks tumbling passionately in the air. Her legs kept teasing him, shining pale through the slit in brown leather, ending far too soon at her boots. There was majesty in the arch of her back and spread of her arms as she held the wheel fast. She was all strength and power, much like the sea she rode on.

A bell passed, signaling a flurry of activity as Regina inspected the entirety of the ship's sails and rigging. Killian watched the three women, Belle having ceased her swabbing a little while ago, taking note of their strengths.

"How many are among your crew, Swan?" He asked, sidling up behind her. She didn't answer right away, so he tacked on a respectful, "If you don't mind my prying."

"It's a harmless enough question." Swan replied indifferently. "Including myself, ten." Killian nodded; it was on the small side for a vessel like this, but he supposed with a witch aboard it eliminated the need for more manpower. "What about you, Jones?" She said, glancing at him over her shoulder, her hair hiding all but her eyes, which were a beguiling blue-green.

"13, including myself." He grimaced a bit. "Bad luck, I know."

Swan chuckled a bit, and it sounded like the best wind pipes he'd ever heard. "You superstitious, Jones?"

"Not particularly, but many of my crew are." Killian's gaze fell unconsciously on Regina. "There's dark magic enough in the world to be worrying about numbers."

Suddenly there was a tension between them. Swan wasn't looking at him, but from what he could see her jaw was hard. He imagined his grim tone was not lost on her. They both waited for someone to break.

"I've heard tales of _the Jolly Roger_." Swan said finally, a dangerous calm in her voice like the eye of a storm. "They had a cruel name befitting her cruel Captain." His left wrist felt heavy. He was silent, and she looked at him in a shrewd way that booked no arguments. "Why do you hide the hook, Captain Jones?" She said firmly.

Killian tried to smile rakishly, but his mouth was taut and not responding to his commands. Slowly, he drew his hook from the pocket. The metal flashed in the sunlight.

"Satisfied, love?" He asked, sounding dangerous even to his own ears.

Swan met his glare dead on. "Did you plan to get the drop on us?" She asked, as composed as ever.

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you." He replied, stepping closer. They were a mere foot's length apart. Killian could smell her sweat, sharp and salty. The intensity of the moment shifted, now predatory of a different nature. "I didn't want alarm anyone." He professed, a teasing lilt to his words. His hook moved closer, brushing back her brown leather coat to reveal the crisp white of her bodice.Swan didn't move, her eyes locked with his. "The tales of my ruthlessness are anything but exaggerated," He murmured, "But should we remain amicable there's no reason for you to dwell on them, darling."

Swan hummed, assessing, and then to his surprise she shifted closer to him. She let go of the wheel with her farthest hand and came so near as to have her breasts brush against his vest. "You should keep in mind, _Hook_ ," She said in a purr that inflamed him, "I have a reputation too."

Killian's suggestive response was cut off by a shout from the forecastle. "Captain!" Regina called out, leaning over the bow. "We've got flotsam ahead!"

Swan scowled. " _Midas_?" She asked tightly.

"Looks like it!" The shout came from aloft, and Killian was surprised he hadn't noticed Mulan climbing atop the main mast. She had a spy-glass to her eye. Decisively she nodded, then she took one of the ropes in hand and jumped down. It caught her weight inches above the deck, and she let go and strode up the steps to join them. "It goes on for too long to plow through it, and the rocks don't help." She Mulan reported to her Captain. "We'll have to go around."

"Agreed." Swan replied. "I'd hoped the tide would clear the damage in time, but that must've been wishful thinking." Spinning the wheel, she called out to those on deck. "Veer starboard!" Regina took up the orders after that, and Mulan hurried down to take in the sails.

They were alone once more, and Killian eyed Swan's focused movements. " _Midas_?" He asked pointedly. "Part of that reputation you were mentioning?"

"Could be." She said, without really saying anything. "It's nearly dinner time, you may satisfy your curiosity then. I'm sure my crew is more likely to indulge you than I."

"And what if I only wish to hear the tale from your lips?" He countered in an undertone.

Swan met his heated gaze only long enough to say, "Get used to disappointment."

Knowing that the change in course meant their talk was finished, Killian left her with a graceful nod. He went below, content to wander around the ship until dinner. While he had been aware of the aesthetics around him, Killian had hardly paid attention to the decor during his first pass through. Now he noted that the interior was hardly feminine. In it's woodwork it looked remarkably like his own. The portholes allowed more light, though that was because the glass was not as dusty as his own.

There were, however, more things of value displayed in common areas. Along the walls were paintings and sketches of subjects as varied as noblemen and choppy expanses of sea. Sculptures, some even studded with gems, sat on ornate tables. If not for the fact that everything was securely tacked down, one could imagine this being a respectable wealthy home.

It was hugely tempting to venture below into the hold, to see what riches these ladies did not display so easily. However, that would surely raise their hackles, and Killian was content to examine the treasures in plain sight. It certainly piqued his curiosity about some of their past exploits.

He nearly didn't notice the bell signaling shift’s end, and Granny was scowling at him when he surfaced for dinner. Killian, undaunted, grinned back as he sauntered through the mess.

“My apologies for not bringing my dress blues, Madam.” He said with a sweeping flourish.

“I’m no Madam.” She said sternly. “It’s Granny or nothing, got it?”

“Of course.” He replied, taking a seat on the far end of the table. He leaned his forearms on the wood, shifting so he was artfully slouched.

“And if I find one hole in my table from that blasted hook,” Granny added, shrill pitch making him flinch, “I’ll wallop you so hard your hand will feel it, wherever it may be.”

“You’re welcome to try.” Killian dared, unable to keep up the pleasantries for long.

“Now now ladies, let’s be civil.” Regina’s taunting tongue said as she appeared, standing by the doorway as more of the crew filed into the mess. She gleefully smirked at Killian’s dour expression. “You know, Jones, if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

Killian quickly counted the heads, taking note of their colors. “Is your Captain not gracing us with her presence tonight?” Regina sat at the head of the table as if she belonged there.

“Captain Swan dines privately in her quarters.” She said dismissively, watching with approval as Granny placed a hug slab of meat in the center of the table. As the matron began cutting and serving, Regina continued, “She’s kind enough to allow the crew to share our meals and rest. She and Henry man the deck, and it allows him the time to learn without getting underfoot.”

There was a shocking softness as her words turned to the cabin boy. It was clear she loved the lad, which gave Killian pause. He hadn’t thought Regina could be Henry’s mother: Henry’s hair was brown, not black, his face round where hers was angular, and he seemed so bright and optimistic while she... Well, Henry’s place on the ship was still a puzzle to him.

Grudgingly, Granny handed him a plate and tin cup, which he accepted with little more than a snide ’thanks’. Killian glanced at the other women as they tucked into the meal. Belle and Mulan he knew by name, but the rest were unknown to him. Mulan sat closely beside the light brown haired lass who had shared her shift. Belle was in conversation with the red cloaked woman he had fought with. His gaze landed on the person sitting next to her, the only one with red hair. Strikingly familiar red hair.

“Pardon me, lass.” Killian spoke up suddenly, silencing most conversation. He stared straight at the red head, who looked back with wide innocent eyes. “Didn’t you have scales when last I saw you?” He asked, humor in his tone. She laughed, and the awkward tension in the room dissipated.

“Yes, that was me.” The mermaid replied. “I guess we weren’t properly introduced. I’m Ariel.”

He couldn't take her hand over the table, so he settled for a nod. “Captain Killian Jones. Clever trick you pulled with my anchor.”

Ariel grinned, her teeth seeming unusually sharp in the gas light. “It’s my specialty.”

“I confess to still being confused as to how you are here, with,” He ducked his head under the table, making the ladies shift, “Two legs.” He finished as he sat up straight again.

“That would be my doing.” Regina cut in. “A simple transfiguration that Ariel can control as she pleases.”

“I’m usually out patrolling the waters,” Ariel said, “But people food is yummy, and I like being with my friends.” She was mouth-rottingly sweet, and Killian had to drink to avoid snorting. He nearly spat the liquid out.

“Gods, is this rum watered down?” He exclaimed in disgust. “You can’t temper rum! What's the bloody point of drinking it at all?”

“It’s grog.” Granny said shortly and with obvious irritation. “Can’t have a ship full of drunkards and it staves off scurvy.”

“I’ll gladly trade the sickness for 100 proof, thanks.” He insisted, staring her down.

“Maybe on your ship, Jones.” Granny said, turning away and deciding to ignore him. “In my kitchen, you’ll drink what I give you.” Killian sent Regina an appealing look. She shrugged and pointedly raised her cup to him.

Surly after being forced to drink swill, Killian was silent as he listened to the conversations around him. Through the others he learned that the woman in red was fittingly called Ruby. Aurora, it seemed, was the petite lass with Mulan.

He gleaned several key relationships among the crew. Regina did not go out of her way to engage the others, but they treated her with deferential respect. Mulan had eyes only for Aurora, who in turn was friendly with Belle and Ariel. They could be superficially divided into two categories: kind and cool. Belle, Aurora, and Ariel were kind, behaving as Killian would expect ladies in finery. Regina, Granny, and Mulan were cool, keeping quiet mostly and direct when they did speak, not bothering with niceties. Ruby was difficult to place; while she was outgoing and smiling, there was still an indefinable sharpness to her.

Killian's mind drifted aloft to the Captain. He could picture her at the wheel, her face illuminated by the setting sun. Would she have forgone her tricorn hat? Her coat? Was she now barking orders at the boy, or did she, like Regina, tend to him with a soft hand? It would be something, Killian thought, to be under the gaze of that fearsome commander, but to have her look at you with wide soft eyes that speak of care and trust and affection.

Was Killian now envious of the Cabin boy? It seemed absurd to think so highly of the woman after a mere day’s acquaintance. But there was an allure to Swan that he could hardly deny. So long had it been since he felt such a draw to a woman, beyond the carnal attractions of tavern wenches. It stirred emotions best dormant.

Before he knew it, all the food was gone, and Regina, Belle, and Granny were off to bed, and Ariel and Ruby headed aloft. Mulan and Aurora, it seemed, were deep in intimate conversation, their attentions miles from him. Killian stood with the intention of bringing his plate to the wash basin, and picked up theirs as well.

"Oh!" Aurora exclaimed, blushing as she realized he was cleaning up after them. "Thank you, but you didn't have to."

"No matter, milady." Killian replied with his most guileless grin. "I am after all a gentleman." Mulan said nothing, though her stare felt chillier if possible. He noticed her arm slung around the back of Aurora's chair. With a noncommittal wave of his fingers, Killian gestured at them. "So, you two… how's that work?"

"If you need me to draw you a diagram," Mulan said stonily, "You aren't as worldly as you claim." Aurora was practically scarlet, looking at her clasped hands.

Killian feigned a laugh. "No, my imagination needs no aid, thank you. I was referring to being in a relationship aboard the same ship. That's hardly proper, is it?" Mulan's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. She clearly hadn't been expecting him to be anything but brutish. Truth was, Killian hadn't much care what people did in their own lives unless he could make a profit from it. But carnal attractions were best left for ports in his opinion. There was one obvious exemption, but as Captain he was allowed to break his own rules.

"The Captain understands." Aurora piped up, her complexion returning to normal. "Mulan and I have been through a lot together, and…" She glanced at the woman beside her with obvious affection. "I never expected to fall in love. Now that it's happened, we're not about to give it up." Killian had to glance away, memories casting shadows over his expression.

He pulled out his flask, which he had cleverly concealed from Granny, and toasted to them. "Treasure the feeling." Mulan eyed him, unreadable as ever, and stood. He didn't pay her any mind, too consumed with the joy of drinking pure rum again. He had hardly finished his swig before there was a clunk on the table. Killian's eyes widened. Mulan had set a full bottle of triple X liquor before him.

"I know where Granny keeps the good stuff." She explained needlessly.

"Mulan," He said reverently, "You are a bloody saint."

Talk flowed as easily as the liquor after that. Aurora tried a sip, but her mouth scrunched up in distaste. He and Mulan, however, matched each other shot for shot.

Mulan spoke first of her voyages across the seas and through forests, traversing multiple diverse kingdoms. She had encountered Belle on a hunt, of which she said little except that it put her in contact with a man from Aurora's kingdom. Aurora filled in the uncomfortable detail about this man being her betrothed. Mulan, Belle, and the man traveled back to find Aurora, though Belle was waylaid in a dwarf tavern she had passed through before and only rejoined later. The party of four was on the run for some time before the man was fatally wounded.

The story broke off as Aurora dabbed her eyes.

"So you really did love him?" Killian asked, uncomfortably gruff. "This bloke?"

"Yes, of course." She professed, wrapping her shawl tighter around her frame. "He was a fine man and would've made a lovely husband. Philip was my true love." Turning to Mulan, she went on, "But that doesn't mean he has to be my only love." They shared a soppy look, and Aurora placed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"That's an admirable sentiment, darling." Killian said, a fluttering of jealousy in his chest that he tried to quell with another drink.

Once they payed attention to something besides each other again, Aurora asked, "Jones, have you ever been in love?"

As was his way, Killian deflected with a leer. "Many a lass believe so."

"That's not an answer." Mulan said, her even tone somehow very insistent.

Ducking his head so his contemplation was aimed at the depths of the liquor, the word slipped out. "Once." The despondency conveyed in the single syllable spoke multitudes. Neither woman pressed.

Aurora's glance was flitting about, and after a moment she leaned over to whisper in Mulan's ear. Whatever she said must've been filled with promises unbecoming a maiden, because Mulan stood without hesitation and the two filed past him out of the mess, presumably to their bunk.

Killian contemplated taking the half finished bottle to his cabin, and glanced out the doorway to check if the coast was clear. Instead, his gaze landed on the silhouette of familiar blonde hair and tantalizing legs. The Captain was leaned in the frame, her brown coat and hat gone, leaving nothing but the white bodice of her tunic that ended at her thighs, the black leather bustier over it, and the knee high boots. Slowly, his eyes trailed back up her body, and he caught his breath. Her gaze was intense, and far too knowing for his liking.

Pasting on a smirk, Killian raised the bottle to her. "Care to join me, love?" There was a moment of stillness, and then she stepped into the room. His fingers clenched around the bottle in surprise. Watching him, she strode towards him, then smoothly veered off to the pantry. Feeling as though he ought to have expected that, Killian chuckled and poured himself another.

"Mulan is rarely so comfortable around strangers." Swan remarked, finding a slab of bread and cheese. It looked like enough for two people, but it was a simple meal far less befitting a Captain than the dinner the crew had had earlier.

"A good chat makes me more than a stranger." He pointed out, giving her an intense look from beneath his brows. "Why don't you try it some time?"

"This may be a vacation for you," Swan said, balancing a tin cup on her food, "But I'm actually working, you know, leading a ship."

"Vacation?" He repeated with some distain. "And that makes you, what? My chartered vessel?" She said nothing, striding with her goods to the door. Killian raised his voice as she passed him. "Is that all this is to you? A business arrangement?" He heard her footsteps halt, but did not look behind him.

"What else could it be?" Swan asked roughly. There was a challenge there he could not deny, and so Killian turned his head to see her. He was sure his gaze was heated, but he didn't affect a smirk or a leer or anything. His face was as earnest as he could be while his heart was still uncertain. However, he was sure of one thing: there was a potential with her he had not felt in centuries.

"Oh Swan," Killian swore, "More than you can imagine."

For a moment, he thought he'd gained ground with her. A nearly imperceptible hitch in her breath, and her eyes went round. Her lips parted to speak, but hesitation caught the words before they could get out. Then the shutters went down, and Swan looked at him impassively once more.

"Good night, Jones." Within a second she was gone, and Killian was alone.

The silence and the dark got to him quickly, and he abandoned the liquor to stalk away to his cabin. With little preamble, Killian shed his clothes and toppled into the bunk.

It was disconcerting to sleep in a cabin other than his own after however many centuries aboard his ship. He counted the grooves in the wood above him twice before discarding the idea. Instead he searched for the motion of the sea. The rocking of the waves was now so ingrained in him that he nearly always forgot about it. But she was still there, his sea, and she lulled him finally to sleep.


	2. Day 2

He woke once at daybreak, a sailor’s habit. With no pressing duties, Killian took the liberty of sleeping in for the first time in ages. It was a fitful rest that he stubbornly clung to, but it was a luxury he was grateful for regardless.

His slumber broke finally due to a pounding at the door. A little groggy, Killian sat up and reached for his trousers. He pulled them on, went for his shirt then thought better of it. With a mischievous smirk, he opened the door to whatever unsuspecting lass was calling on him.

It was not Swan, as he might’ve hoped, but Ruby. Her sharp brown eyes raked over his shirtless chest so unrepentantly as to make him rather self-conscious, normally unheard of. His smirk didn’t waver, but Killian did clear his throat, drawing her gaze up to his face immediately.

“Captain wants you. Up top.” She said, short but unflustered.

“Tell Swan if she wants me I can hardly refuse.” He replied heavy with suggestion. “I’ll be up in a wink.” Ruby nodded and sauntered away, Killian watching the entire time in case she looked back. She didn’t.

He dressed quickly in the same clothes, his only aboard this ship. Another trip to the head to relieve himself and wash his face and swill water in his mouth. Then he was climbing out of the berth and surfacing on deck.

The first thing he noticed was the still air; there was barely a breeze enough to ruffle his hair. The second thing he noticed was that it seemed like the entire crew was on deck. Regina and Henry were by at the helm, though they were chatting rather than navigating. Aurora and Ruby were lounging and looking bored by the bow, Belle reading beside them. And in the center of the deck, Swan was deep in conversation with Mulan and Granny. They broke off after seeing him emerge, and Mulan motioned him over.

“Captain Jones,” Swan addressed him as he drew closer, "We have a bit of a problem."

"If you're referring to the fact that we're stationary, yes, I gathered." He responded, looking out over the calm waters. His eyes caught on something, or rather, the absence of something. He spun around. "Hang on, where's _the Jolly Roger_?"

"She's there." Mulan reassured him. "We must've pulled ahead. You can see her from the mast." Killian nodded curtly, needed to see for himself, and went to begin the climb. A hand on his arm stopped him.

"We can't move like this." Swan told him, letting go quickly. "Normally, we'd use magic to fill the sails, but—"

"That means leaving _the Jolly Roger_ further behind." He finished for her, shaking his head.

"Right." She said, sounding sympathetic. "The journey's stalled."

Granny snorted. "Who knows how long until we're rid of him now."

Killian glared at her. "The sentiment is reciprocated." He strode to the rigging of the main mast and started his ascent.

Even with just the one hand, he made short work of it. When he reached the top, just above the topsail, he twisted the rigging around his feet and left arm. Killian dug his hook into the wood, and once it held, he got out his spy-glass and looked aftward. He scanned the horizon, once, twice, before he found her. _The Jolly Roger's_ sails were just as lifeless as _Storybrooke's,_ it seemed. It was a comfort to watch her, and so Killian stayed aloft for a while, just looking at the speck in the distance. Though the ship rocked with the waves, more noticeable up top, his hook kept him steady.

"You'll have to pay for that repair, you know." The accented voice of Belle caught him off guard. Killian lowered the spy-glass and looked down. Belle hung off the shroud not far below him. She appeared happy and in her element with the ropes.

"Wished to join me, did you, lass?" Killian asked playfully, ignoring her remark. 

Belle shook her head and pointed to the deck. She said simply, "Best view's up here." He followed her gaze, to see a duel taking place. Regina and Ruby were circling each other, identical swords in their hands. The rest of the crew were on the quarter deck watching avidly. The two women clashed blades and broke apart, both cautious.

Belle explained, "We train on temperate days to hone our skills. It's best to change up the pairings so we get the most varied techniques."

Ruby chose that instant to charge, and Regina met her in a flurry of thrusts and parries. Ruby was more aggressive than he remembered, but he discovered that was because Regina was adept at using every retreat to her advantage. No sooner than Ruby would draw back her arm for another cut, Regina would get in a lightning quick jab. It was a complex match, though he would wager on Regina.

Killian tore his eyes from the duel to regard Belle. "What weapon did you carry when you boarded my ship?"

She looked at him in surprise. "A knife. I prefer the shorter blades to a sword. Why?"

He shrugged, looping his hand in the rigging. "Don't take this the wrong way, darling, but you're a little hard to picture in a sword fight."

"It's the round face and blue eyes, isn't it?" She jested with a kind smile. Killian was caught off guard by how comfortable she was around him, and wondered if Mulan and Aurora had been spreading tales of their late night chat. "It's true, I prefer tending to the ship, but I can hold my own in a fight if necessary."

"I'd love to see that." He said with a raised brow.

"You will, if the wind doesn't pick up soon." Belle replied, losing interest in him as the fight below drew to a close.

As he'd predicted, Regina had worn Ruby down to the point that her form was sloppy. There were nicks in the red cloak where Regina had carefully pulled back, the cuts not deep enough to draw blood. Finally Ruby didn't parry fast enough, and Regina's blade touched beneath her chin. Immediately both women backed off, putting away their swords. Then Regina extended her hand to the beaten woman, and Ruby shook it with a large genuine grin.

"Well, they're good sports." Killian remarked with some surprise.

Belle shrugged. "It's just practice." She gave a little huff. "I ought to get down, it'll be my turn to fight Mulan." Reluctantly she began her shimmy down the rigging, but he stopped her as an idea came to him.

"Perhaps you won't have to take on Mulan just yet." Without giving her inquisitive look an explanation, he removed his hook from the mast and climbed down.

Landing on the deck, Killian addressed the crew. "If you're looking to test your skills, I might be able to help."

"You wish to fight?" Mulan clarified, her sword already drawn.

"Practice." He replied, unscrewing his hook and pocketing it. "I confess, it's been a while since I've had a challenge."

"Glad to see you're not underestimating us." Swan said from the quarter deck, and as he turned to her he saw her gaze fully trained on where his hook now rest out of sight. There was a teasing note in her voice, just shy of sarcastic, that had him beaming at her.

"If you switched to two blades," He told her rakishly, "This would come close to a fair fight." Swan watched him with a glint in her eye, but she turned and walked to the stern. Not to be discouraged, Killian opened his arms to the crew. "A sword and a partner?" Mulan handed him a small sword, and adopted a broad fighting stance. Killian arched a brow, and the duel began.

They were wary of one another, having never seen the other's techniques. His attention flit between her stance and her sword. Hers was a double-edged blade, long and narrow, which meant it would be agile. Though she wore that chain and cloth armor, he imagined Mulan would be as well.

It would show his hand, so to speak, but Killian took the chance to strike first. He opened with a cut from the right which he expected her to deflect, followed quickly by a swipe at her legs. Mulan effortlessly outstepped his swing and used the motion to jab forward. He parried, and Mulan retreated a step. She returned, her movements flowing like water, and she hit him with a series of cuts that nearly unbalanced him. Killian had to throw out his other arm as he evaded to steady himself.

"Oh, you're quite good!" He exclaimed with glee, taking enough steps back to regain his footing. Mulan didn't follow, waiting for him.

"You aren't bad yourself." She conceded grudgingly. "Though your techniques are classical to the point of being outdated."

"Tried and tested, darling." Killian winked disarmingly, and as he planned she couldn't help but roll her eyes. In a flash he got a swipe at her left arm, the ripping sound signaling a hit. The crew collectively held its breath as Mulan inspected the cut. "First rule of combat," He told her as she looked back at him in shock, "Know your opponent."

"Lucky." She replied, a fierce tightening to her face. "You won't get another shot."

With that, Mulan went on the offensive, twirling her blade at dizzying speeds. Their blades met with clang after clang, Killian unable to do more than block her incessant hits. She was trying to back him up against the gangplank, to pin him down, but he kept them circling. Mulan attempted to disarm him with a twist of her sword around his wrist, but Killian's grip held, his hand strong after so many years depending solely on it.

They were so evenly matched, the duel went on until they were both shining with sweat and panting breathlessly. Mulan was fluid and efficient in her work, and Killian was relentless in his evasions and attacks. They were panting for breath when Mulan held up her hand, ceasing his assault.

"We have to call a draw." She declared, lowering her sword as he did the same. "I cannot continue to fight you without drawing blood. To win the upper hand I would have to hurt you."

Killian nodded, "Agreed, milady." Gratefully he sheathed the small sword in his belt and shed his leather coat. The sweat beneath his tunic cooled as the air hit his chest. He bowed to Mulan. "A vigorous battle, and most enjoyable. I thank you." Mulan bowed without flourish and walked over to where Aurora was waiting with needle and thread. The lovers bent their heads, lost to the world.

"Ahem." Killian turned to the polite throat clearing. Belle stood, her dagger in hand. It was long for a knife, with a curiously curved double-edged blade. There was a smile on her face even as she got into a defensive stance. "The wind hasn't picked up." She remarked slyly. "Ready to witness my skills?"

"More than." Killian said, wiping at his brow with his sleeve. He drew the sword and stepped forward. "You're in luck to catch me after such a duel. You may have a chance."

Belle gave a mock curtsey. "How kind of you, sir." Then she lunged, and the duel began.

As mediocre as her footwork was, she was skilled with her dagger. She was adept at twirling it with her wrist with enough speed to match his blows. Belle could predict where he would aim and kept blocking in the nick of time. Killian had to adjust his technique after matching Mulan's skill; it would be brute strength that would best her. He drove her back against the rail with hard hits close to the hilt.

Finally, he was able to feint, extending his left arm so her gaze snapped to the side. He brought his elbow down on her hand, knocking the dagger out of her grip. It fell, and its point buried in the deck, standing straight up. Belle looked at him as he lowered his point from her face.

"You're good with that blade, lass, no doubt about that." Killian told her, holstering his sword and bending down to pick hers up. He handed it back to her and she smiled at the compliment. "However, your form needs work. Focus your motions less on your wrist and more on the shoulder and elbow. Think of the dagger as an extension of your arm, that way it'll be stronger and harder to dislodge."

"You sound like a teacher." Regina remarked from where she rested on the quarter deck.

Killian turned to her. "A past life." He said, playfully enigmatic. The witch made a show of looking indifferent.

"Me next, please." Aurora had stepped up with a long sword, her skirt billowing as she walked. Belle wandered back to the mast and Killian regarded the new challenger. She had a sunny expression, unconcerned with the prospect of fighting him.

"You sure, milady?" He asked, not yet in his stance. "I know you to rely on your quiver. The sword's a far different animal."

"I know," She replied, "That's why I could use the practice." Killian nodded at that. He would go easy on her, to keep this a training exercise rather than a duel.

The first thing he noticed when she advanced was that Aurora had beautiful footwork. She moved with all the grace of a dancer. The light material of her skirt allowed her a good range of motion, never hampering her progress. Her lean body was a marvel, but that didn't mean her stance was strong. She stepped with the intention of agility when she ought to be focused on grounding herself for the fight. Killian could have tripped her up easily, but he did not yet.

Secondly, while she knew how to hold the sword, she wasn't bold with it. Aurora kept clashing their blades without going for his vulnerable spots, and he gave her openings. Her defense was better, but she lacked awareness of where her sword was unable to protect her. She kept her left side far too close, when she ought to have turned it away and relied on the side with her sword.

Thirdly, her gaze was almost always on his sword rather than him. Had she paid more attention to his body, she would've been able to predict his attacks rather than react instinctively. There were tells in the way he moved that an experienced swordsman would've picked up on.

When he was satisfied that he'd gleaned everything necessary, Killian disarmed her quickly with a swift right cut and his foot sweeping out. Aurora stumbled, and her sword lilted to the side, allowing him to press his blade to her chest.

"There now, fatal hit." Killian declared, backing off.

"Wow!" The young voice caught him off guard. Henry ran up to them, a water pouch in hand. "That was incredible! It was over so fast!" Killian took the proffered water and drank from it heavily.

"Thank you, lad." He responded, handing it back with a slight smirk. "Glad you enjoyed it." Killian turned to Aurora, giving her the instructions he had noted during their fight. Henry hovered, listening intently with awe in his eyes. After a quick demonstration of proper stance, Aurora went away, presumably back to Mulan.

Killian looked down at Henry, who still lingered. "I imagine you haven't yet learned sword fighting?"

The lad shook his head. "No, they all say I'm too young."

"I daresay they're right." Killian said, taking the opportunity to lean against the mast. He chuckled at Henry's disappointed frown. "Don't be so eager for a fight, lad, you might just get one."

"Henry!" Regina beckoned the lad to the quarter deck, and Henry went with little more than a resigned look. Killian watched him go, wondering when he'd next get a chance to speak to the lad. He was sweet, innocent, rare in this land and line of work, like a breath of ocean air after being locked in a brig.

As he looked around, Killian noted the crew leaning on the rail of the quarter deck with something like anticipation. Before he could really question what they were waiting for, he felt the press of a blade against his back. He stiffened though the contact was brief, and spun around. Swan stood a pace behind him, her coat discarded, leaving her in the white bodice and some brown breeches. The cutlass in her hand was fine, possessing a dangerous beauty much like its master.

Killian smirked at her. "A challenge, Captain? Oh, we are bold."

Swan shifted her weight easily, swinging her blade idly so it caught the sun. "After watching you beat half my crew, I figured I ought to restore their honor." She nodded with her chin towards his left wrist. "Put it on." Killian obliged, drawing out the hook and snapping it into the brace.

"You sure about this, Swan?" He asked, shaking out his arms as they moved to the center of the deck.

"I'm far from scared of you, Hook." The moniker shouldn't have irked him, it was how most referred to him, but it created a palpable distance between them. Deciding to combat this, he shifted closer, too close for a fighting stance. Swan stiffened but consciously released her tension. For a moment he indulged in looking at her with all the heat he possessed. His gaze tracked the length of her hair as it ran over her breasts. Killian swallowed.

Trying not to show how she affected him, he said in an undertone, "Big words, but do you really want to do this here? In front of your whole crew?" The innuendo was unmistakeable, but she didn't bat an eye. "Don't you think you'll lose a bit of authority?"

"I'm not planning on losing anything." She raised her blade between them, forcing him to back away. They settled into battle stances by muscle memory alone, all their concentration focused on their opponent. It was a sign of worthy adversaries that neither were eager to strike first.

Killian's blade darted out, parried by Swan's immediately, and then withdrew. There was a pause, and then Swan gave three short swings that he blocked, also retreating a safe distance. It was a cautious opening, a test of each other's reflexes. Then suddenly Swan surged forward with an under cut, and the fight began in earnest.

She was a flurry of movement, and it took nearly all of his concentration to react accordingly. The sweet sound of metal on metal rang out almost without pause. There were very few openings in her swings, but whenever he caught one Killian didn't hesitate to take it. One jab towards her right thigh whispered past her trousers, and Swan backed away, turning them and putting a moment's distance between them.

"Anyone ever tell you you fight like a man?" Swan barked at him, coming at him again with some diagonal swings.

"Can't say they have." Killian replied, his parries not suffering for the winning grin he shot her way. "You?"

Swan scoffed, her point twirling as she attempted to disarm him. "I don't give them a chance to." There was a light in her eyes that told him she was enjoying the duel, his banter included.

Her stance, he noted, was tight, closed off, very secure. It was in direct contrast to his own, which had to be open to keep his hook within range for anything. Killian took the offensive, hoping to come at her from everywhere so her concentration slipped and left her unguarded. No opportunity was forthcoming, however, so he kept pelting her with blows hoping she'd break.

The sun was high above them, and had they been in their leathers it would've been unbearable. As it was, his trousers were clinging to his slick skin, and he wished he'd left more buttons undone. There were twin blooms of pink high on Swan's cheeks.

An indeterminate amount of time passed in a blur of action and reaction before Killian decided to test the waters. "You have me at a disadvantage, love." He remarked, but Swan's focus didn't falter.

"And what's that?" She asked, seemingly disinterested.

"I've felt your gaze on me all morning. Watching me. _Learning me_." That got her attention. Killian teasingly ran his tongue along his top teeth. "I've not yet had the pleasure of learning you." Maybe he oughtn't have taunted her, because she rattled him with a under cut that passed too close to his knee.

Swan thrust forward with long sweeps from multiple directions that kept him guessing. Killian was clever enough to keep his parries close, protecting himself for the moment. In a way, their fighting styles were very similar. Their gazes were analytical as they planned each move, but they fueled their body with emotion. It could only be their similarities that kept neither from getting the upper hand.

She wheeled away starboard, coming at him from another angle, and he had just enough time to adjust his stance to block her. Pressing his advantage, he used his strength to propel himself forward, their blades still locked. Swan’s sword was forced upward by his own, but she didn't back away.

“Good form!” He declared, his face close despite the swords between them. Swan seemed unimpressed, and when his hook went for her leg, aiming to uproot her and send her falling, she twisted out of his grip. “Very good!” He added with a grin as he readied himself for another assault.

Swan had a sly smirk of her own as she shifted her grip on the hilt. “No need to tell me what I already know.”

Swayed by the challenge in her voice, Killian charged, his blade slicing from above. With both hands she steadied herself, the blow shaking through her shoulders. She forced him back with a kick to his feet. Her blade came at him from his left, and Killian caught it with his hook. Before she could withdraw, he had his sword meeting hers, trapping it there. Swan yanked, but he’d done this before and the trap was perfect.

“You know, Swan,” He said as he dragged his grip down to her hilt, “There’s still time to concede. I’ll even put on a good show for your crew.” Her glare was potent with more than just anger, he could tell, as he leaned in, her cutlass carefully bent away from his throat. “I can think of any number of...” His tongue wet his lips. “...Reparations you can make me.”

The punch came out of nowhere, knocking him back with shocking force. His hook fell away automatically to steady himself, and her sword slipped from him as she escaped. He was already rising to block her next attack even as he blinked the stars from his eyes. Killian scowled as he pushed her away.

“Unsportsmanlike.” He told her, shifting his sore jaw.

Swan smirked, twirling her cutlass as she readied for the next attack. “Pirate.” She mockingly reminded him. It piqued his blood, and Killian redoubled his efforts.

With unrelenting force he had her backing away, constantly evading both his sword and hook. Killian beat her towards the bow. Without missing a swing, Swan stepped backwards up the stairs to the forecastle, her parries unfazed. Her eyes were on him constantly, and yet she did not trip in her retreat up the deck.

“This is my ship, Jones,” She said as she deftly avoided one of the low tonnage guns on the deck, “You can’t use her against me.” The canvas of the foresail blocked their audience's view, and made it seem as though they were the only ones for miles.

“Killian, please.” He replied, aiming for breezy but falling short as he evaded a well placed thrust. With his next move, a swing that doubled back and would’ve sliced through any other opponent’s torso, he grinned unrepentantly. “We fight like lovers, we may as well be on a first name basis.”

“Lovers? Bit presumptuous there, don't you think?” She asked, twisting her whole body with her blade, her feet dancing expertly.

“Not at all.” Killian said, bringing his blade underneath her elbow. For a moment he nearly had her, could’ve sworn his point caught on her sleeve, but Swan countered with an over cut of her own that he had to parry. “You see,” He went on, trying not to betray his slight fatigue, “Lovers make the best opponents. They know your strengths, your weaknesses, the vulnerable spots you try to keep hidden.” He went for her left, above her heart, but she swatted his point away. “This fight, this battle for dominance, it’s _passion_. And more than that,” He added as Swan almost dislodged his footing, jumping away at the last moment, “It’s fun!”

She went for his left thigh, so instinctively Killian brought his hook down to defend it. Instead of the expected ringing of metal, there was silence. Killian looked down. Thin, pale, weather beaten fingers were closed around the curve of his hook. It took him a second to register the unfamiliar sight. She’d feigned left, he realized, she’d only wanted to catch his hook, but why…

A touch desperately, Killian brought his sword down in a vertical cut, but Swan’s cutlass ducked beneath its path and twisted it out to the right. Swifter than he could blink, she advanced, molding her front against his. Both their arms were open, her holding him tight, but he ceased his struggling when he felt her warm curves pressing insistently on him.

The fight left him immediately, replaced by an altogether different feeling. The thin barriers of their shirts were far too thick, the leather of his trousers treacherous in how it kept him from the swell of her hips. She was mesmerizing, so much so that he could not even put on a leer or a smirk.

Swan gazed at him for one blessed moment, and then he felt a pain in his slack wrist as his sword was twisted from his grip. Not one to miss an opportunity, Killian wrapped his free arm around her waist, keeping her close.

He could kiss her, he realized, right then and there with her crew not 20 paces away. But he would not. All it could be, then and there, was a kiss stolen when she risked a clever gambit. It would not come from her, from any desire for him. No, Killian decided as he looked into her stormy eyes, when this gorgeous creature's lips met his, it would be her doing, because she wanted him. That would be a far sweeter prize.

"You're a force to be reckoned with, Swan." He murmured, letting his voice bleed admiration. Her gaze flitted down from his eyes, and he held his breath. His lips burned.

Her lashes fluttered briefly, then she looked up. "Emma." She said simply. Killian puzzled over the non sequitur before he remembered. Fighting like lovers. It was a concession of the point, no matter how obliquely.

The sounds of footsteps approaching broke their trance. Her fingers slipped from his hook, letting his arm fall, and Swan — Emma stepped back. The breeze quickly took the space of her heat. Wait…

"Captain, we have wind." Regina reported as she and Henry climbed the stairs to the forecastle.

Emma turned her face windward. "It's just about the right direction." She declared brusquely, decidedly not looking at him. "Regina, take Mulan and Aurora and get her moving. Tell the rest of them to start lunch and then you can be relieved by Ruby and Belle."

"Ariel still isn't back from her patrol." Regina said, glancing at Killian with some dismissal. Emma didn't reply, looking instead to Henry.

"Henry," She said, a quiet smile filling her voice, "Go tell Granny to start lunch. And take Killian with you below." Emma shot him a look that was deliberately playful. "He must be all tired out after losing so spectacularly."

"Spectacular, I'll grant you," Killian retorted, "But tired? You'll have to do better than that, Swan." Their gaze held in a way that told him she'd have another witty, possibly flirtatious, reply had there not been company. As it was, however, Killian strode past her to the lad's side, and he and Henry descended to the main deck.

The cantankerous cook squinted at his approach. "Swan beat you, eh? Hope she knocked some sense into you while she was at it."

Killian grimaced, holding back any number of innuendos along the lines of 'knocking' due to the boy by his side. "I shan't likely go toe-to-toe with Swan again any time soon." He glanced at Henry. "Relay your message, I'll just be a second, lad."

Henry eagerly gave the instructions for lunch, and Killian wandered to the rail. Even without his spy-glass he could make out _the Jolly Roger_ on the horizon. Her sails were full and she was clearly gaining speed. It was a comfort to see her catching up, and he breathed a slight sigh of relief. Grabbing his coat, he returned to Henry's side, seeing Granny, Ruby, and Belle already moving to go below.

"Come on," Henry urged him, "I'm starving." Hearing him say it made Killian realize just how hungry he was. He so rarely slept late and skipped breakfast.

"What do you think the matron has prepared for us?" He asked the lad as they descended to the berth.

"Oh, Granny's cooking is the best, don't worry." Henry breezily assured him. Killian remained unconvinced. "You really are a great swordsman." Henry remarked as they walked to the galley. Killian inclined his head in silent thanks. "Where did you learn all those moves?"

"I suppose I was no older than you when I witnessed my first duel." Killian mused, remembering the bloody ordeal from one of his first days aboard the pirate ship his father'd dumped him on. "I learned how to fight quickly, but proper swordsmanship came far later."

"Who taught you?" Henry asked, as they paused outside the doorway.

Killian grimaced against the pain that always descended when he spoke of Liam. "A great man, now gone." He had the feeling Henry would have pressed if not for Granny's ignorant intervention.

"Good, you're here, you can move the plates to the table." The cook was setting her food out, Ruby taking a dish on each arm to the table. Belle was pouring drinks into their tin cups.

Henry immediately heeded her, bounding in to the galley and picking up a dish. The food looked and smelled good, with a variety of vegetables, a rarity at sea, as well as salted meats. However, he would not want to let on to Granny his appreciation.

More leisurely, Killian wandered in after him. "Always happy to lend a hand."

"Do you always have a joke like that up your sleeve?" Ruby asked, a devilish twinkle to her eye as she swept past.

"Only the one." Killian answered with a jaunty tilt of his head. He went to aid them, picking the least helpful tasks while Granny watched him, scowling yet unable to scold him.

Finally they sat and, not waiting for the others still above deck, began lunch. Henry went straight for the meats, piling a ridiculous amount on his plate.

“I yearn to hear tales of your exploits.” Killian said to Belle as they passed around a plater to serve themselves.

“What in particular sparks your interest?” She replied.

“Anything. What gruesome tales of gore and glory does _the Storybrooke_ have beneath its hull?”

Ruby grinned, leaning forward as she joined the conversation. “That’s gonna take some time. You up for it, Jones?" 

“Oh, I’m up for anything.” He assured her.

Ruby launched into a vivid description of their most recent conquest, the _Midas_ , the finest naval vessel in the eponymous King’s fleet. Rumor had it the king was capable of turning anything into gold, and as such he was the wealthiest royal in the known lands. Mary Margret had learned that the _Midas_ was being sent as an envoy to another kingdom, with riches untold as a gift of goodwill. Unfortunately for the _Midas_ , their route took them through _Storybrooke’s_ waters.

“Regina conjured this insane storm that ripped through their sails.” Ruby eagerly recounted. “They were dead in the water. We pulled up abreast and threw down the gangplank, much like we did with you.”

“They weren’t nearly as intelligent though.” Belle pointed out. “Refused to back down. As soon as we’re aboard, they’re attacking.”

“How quickly was it over?” Killian asked, already picturing the battle now that he knew how well the ladies fought.

“Not even ten minutes.” The smug interruption was from Regina, as she arrived. Mulan and Aurora were undoubtedly still above with Emma, allowing Belle and Ruby to finish their meal.

Ruby continued the story from where she left off. “Swan came up behind their Captain and...” She made an aborted gesture with her dinner knife, glancing furtively at Henry, who was oblivious.

“We offered them surrender,” Regina added, adding greenery to Henry’s plate with a long suffering expression, “But they refused. We were well within our rights, so there’s no use being coy about it.” Ruby looked exasperated, but didn’t comment.

“That’s a thrilling tale, to be sure.” Killian said between bites. “How much did you take in from that?”

“As you can imagine,” Regina replied, “a lot of gold. 1,200 gold coins, 25 gold bricks, and some presumably solid gold sculptures we’re planning to fence. We split the pot pretty evenly, the Captain, first mate, and I get an extra 5%.”

That was a mild difference, Killian usually took a good 15%. Considering he only spent it on booze, gambling, wenches, and the occasional book or precious acquisition, he could probably afford to take less.

Bell spoke, breaking his contemplation. “May I ask you a question, Captain?” Killian nodded, and she went on. “How did you come by your crew?”

He pondered that. “The usual ways, I suppose. I had served with many upon a... Different ship.” That was a lie, of course, but he found talking of his navy career difficult. “They all followed me into this life, and we served many years happily together.”

Here was another half-truth, “Recently we were marooned on an island. A dangerous place. I lost half my crew before we managed to escape. When we came to the next port I scrounged up enough recruits to make up for the loss. They're paid well, when we are fortunate.”

“Well, I should say,” Killian amended, “Most of my crew was commissioned that way. My first mate is a more complicated story.” The circle of eager faces made him continue. “David is his name. I came upon a vessel where he happened to be traveling. I took most of the people on board hostage, David included. I was initially going to ransom him, but it turned out the man was trying to escape his life. I, being the generous sort, offered him a deal: any riches he could give me in exchange for faking his death, and he could come aboard and I’d drop him wherever he wished. Only trouble was, after a couple of days, he had no wish to leave _the Jolly Roger_.” He was met with chuckles around the table.

“That’s amazing.” Henry said, eyes wide and bright. Killian couldn't help but preen a bit under such honest awe.

“Yes, quite the story, Jones,” Granny added as she refilled his cup, “I’d be amazed if any of it were true.”

“Every word.” He replied. Although he was leaving out key details of what it was David had been running from, the gist remained intact. “Well, tit for tat seems to be in order.” Killian declared as he glanced around the table. “How did you ladies come together?” And so went their tale.

Regina had run away from an overbearing mother, escaping with her lover to a coastal town. They’d lived happily for years until her lover was tragically killed by royal forces. Regina learned magic and sought revenge against the leader of the navy ship that murdered him. Captain Swan had provided her the means to do just that.

Ruby and her grandmother (Granny, he quickly realized) had been cast out of their town and left to fend for themselves. They spent some time in the woods, but eventually found their way to a port town. Together they worked and managed a tavern, frequented by merchants and ruffians. One night, a couple men came into the tavern with the intention of robbing them blind. Granny had got out her gun and Ruby attacked them with the kitchen knives and suddenly there were a couple dead bodies neatly piled in the dining room. Captain Swan entered from the back door, revealing herself to have witnessed the fight, and offered an escape from the law.

Belle had once been a servant, but had run away after a disagreement with her master (the lass blushed when she spoke of him, which was intriguing). She found herself in a dwarf tavern, where a dwarf by the name of Dreamy encouraged her, predictably, to follow her dreams of adventure. Belle soon met Mulan, and they eventually found Aurora. The three women found themselves on the wrong side of a witch named Maleficent. It was Captain Swan who sidled up to them in a tavern and offered to help them dispatch this witch.

“And the mermaid?” Killian asked, still a bit bewildered by the tame creature.

Regina recounted what she knew of Ariel’s story and that of the missing first mate, Mary Margret. The mermaid had witnessed a thief cornered by royal patrol jump off a cliff into deep waters. Ariel rescued the thief from drowning, and when Mary Margret awoke the two became fast friends. They worked together to steal onto docked ships and rob them, always keeping a low profile. That was, until Captain Swan approached them and offered them larger hauls.

“So,” Killian said as he leaned back in his chair, their stories a jumble in his mind, “Swan somehow recruited you all separately, promising exactly what you needed at the time. Sounds like a bloody miracle worker.”

“Or a Savior.” Regina added slyly, as if sharing a private joke with no one.

“She kept her promises.” Ruby cut in. “We’ve never been safer, happier, freer than we are here, together.”

“Yes, I can see why you’re all so loyal to her.” He replied, throwing back the grog and wincing at the lackluster taste.

“You think us foolish?” Regina asked, tone carefully polite in a way that suggested peril.

He sighed. “No, she’s clearly a fine leader. But how can you pledge service to an enigma?”

Regina leaned forward in her chair. “Swan is no enigma to us. It's you she’s keeping in the dark, Jones.” There was nothing he could say to that, and Regina gave him no chance to. “Belle, Ruby, relieve Mulan and Aurora.” The two had long since finished eating, so they rose without protest. "Henry," Regina addressed the boy with her usual jarring kindness, "Why don't you and Jones stay in your cabin for a while. I'm sure you can find some means of entertaining each other."

"Sure thing." The lad chirped, immediately getting up from his chair. Killian stood as well, passing Mulan and Aurora as they came in.

As he left, he briefly overheard one of them mutter, "The wind is picking up far too…" But Henry had grabbed his hand and was pulling him away before Killian could hear any more.

He took him to his cabin, well, Henry's cabin and Killian's temporary quarters. Forgoing the bed, Henry dropped down to the floor and crossed his legs. Rather more ungainly, Killian mimicked him, sitting across the room. There was a beat of uncertain silence.

“So,” Henry began, “Do you know any games?”

Killian smirked, reaching into one of the inner pockets of his coat and taking out two sets of dice. “I could teach you a few. That is, if your mother has no objections to your learning the sin of gambling.” That earned him a long laugh, answer enough.

The lad caught on quick. It took only four rounds of Killian consistently rolling sevens for him to exclaim, “You’re cheating! Your dice are loaded, mine aren’t.”

“Trick about gambling, lad,” He said as he leaned against the bed, “Never do it unless you’re sure to win.”

Next Killian taught him the sleight of hand he’d developed long ago, to switch out the loaded dice with the clean set so as to proclaim innocence when another tried to prove your dishonesty. It was tricky to do, and easier when your hand was unusually dexterous like Killian’s right had become. Eventually Henry got it, easily slipping the incriminating dice into his sleeve and smoothly holding out the new pair.

“If you feel accusatory eyes on you, it’s best to throw a couple bad rounds.” Killian advised him as Henry continued to practice. “You can make the money up when your ’luck’ returns, and its better than spending a night in the brig.”

“Nice.” Henry nodded. A roar of wind rattled the porthole, and the dice fell from his grip. Both turned to look out the window, where rain came down hard, pelting the already tumultuous sea. The clouds were dark and night was drawing close, and with it a lack of visibility.

"Poor conditions." Killian muttered, hoping he came off more dismissive than he felt.

Henry looked just as worried. "Maybe we should go up and help."

"No, lad," Killian said quickly, "I doubt very much they'd appreciate the help right now. I've yet to see this crew falter, I'm sure they're more than capable of weathering this storm. Best to keep you safe below." With an expression that indicated a brewing argument, Henry opened his mouth, but Killian cut him off. "I suppose they must've taught you five-card draw?" He drew a deck of cards from the recesses of his coat.

Henry reluctantly took up the game, and they played for baubles from his coat (prompting the lad to demand, "How many pockets do you have in that thing?"). Killian thought he ought to lose a couple hands after taking much of Henry's bets, but found that he couldn't regain the lead once he lost it. Embarrassingly, his realization took far longer than the boy's had.

"You swindled me!" He declared, as Henry raked in the pot. "You led me to believe you were a novice."

"Yeah, and then you went easy on me." The lad had the audacity to grin. "See, people often underestimate me. That's how I get them."

Killian regarded him with newfound respect. "You really are a pirate." Henry shrugged, at ease with the label. "Forgive my surprise, the way they were pussyfooting around the subject of murder earlier gave me a different impression."

"Don't get me wrong," Henry replied, inspecting the large ring he'd won, "I know the difference between good and evil. My family, this ship, we aren't villains. The people on land see us that way, but they're wrong. We're surviving, that's all." He pocketed his new trinkets, looking at Killian with a shrewd intelligence beyond his years. "If I was in trouble, my family would do whatever it took to keep me safe. They're heros, if only to me."

"You have a lot of faith in them." Killian said, looking down and running his fingers absently over his hook. He heard Henry shifting in place.

"Killian," The unexpected use of his first name made him glance up, and he was trapped by Henry's earnest gaze, "Your crew would do the same for you, wouldn't they?"

Killian cleared his throat to stall. "Why should they? I don't need saving. I'm far more competent than the lot of them put together." Henry smiled, an almost pitying look. He seemed to know everything Killian wasn't saying; there was not a living soul who would put him first, not anymore.

Their tenuous silence was broken by the fragments of raised voices from aloft. Both tensed, Killian jumping to his feet. The wind still beat against the stern, but the yelling filtered down through it all. Henry was obviously worried, and Killian held up his hand to forestall any attempts to get up.

"Henry, stay here." He ordered, sounding like a Captain for the first time in a while. "No matter what, stay below. I'll go up and see what the trouble's about." Backing towards the door, Killian attempted a calming smile. "It's probably nothing. I'll be back soon with a report." He slipped out the door before Henry could voice his protests.

Killian rushed through the berth, throwing out his arms as the ship rocked unexpectedly. The waters were exceptionally rough. How he hadn't noticed while with Henry was a mystery.

He climbed up to the deck, emerging and immediately grabbing onto some rigging for stability. The ropes themselves were nearly coming undone, and before he could even look around he instinctively tightened their knots.

"It's him!" He heard a shrill cry ring out, and Killian looked up from his task. Ariel was clinging to the foremast, her tail slapping on the deck. She looked terrified and wild, staring at him with completely round eyes. "He's the cause of this!" Ariel declared in a shout. "Ursula's angry because we took on a man!"

"Would you cease your superstitious drivel!" Regina barked out, and Killian spun around to face aft. Emma and Regina were both at the wheel, struggling to hold her through the waves. The ship was fighting them, at the mercy of the storm. A wave leapt over the rail, thankfully falling back and leaving nothing more than spray.

"Aurora," Emma yelled, "Get the mainsail under control!" The fore-and-aft sail was swinging back and forth over the quarter deck, going so fast as to damage itself, its wood creaking and its ropes fraying.

Killian was closer, so he grabbed onto the nearest stay. "Got it!" He called out. He held on to the bucking beam, though it fought him with all it had. Had they more time to prepare, the sail ought to have been taken in, but as it was it kept catching the fluctuating wind. Killian managed to wrangle it over to the starboard side. Bending over, he looped the mainsail's stay around the nearest fastening.

Glancing up, he took note of everyone's positions. Belle and Ruby were dealing with the foremast, constantly retying rigging and adjusting the sails as the wind hit at dizzying speeds. Mulan and Aurora were holding fast to the foresail's stays as well as the main mast's.

"We need to do something!" Ariel insisted. "She'll kill us all just to be rid of him!"

“Get a hold of yourself, mermaid!” Regina bellowed, throwing all of her weight into turning the wheel with Emma. “Get back in the water and try and stabilize us!”

“I won’t go in unless it’s to drown him!” Ariel shrieked, looking at the water as if it would reach up and smite her. Perhaps that was precisely what she feared. Her raw terror made any retort wither on his tongue.

“The topsail’s nearly loose!” Emma shouted in warning.

“On it!” Mulan called back, releasing her stay and moving to the shroud to climb up.

“Leave it!” Aurora pleaded, struggling now with the majority of the rigging. Killian edged his way towards her, using the rail for balance. “It’s not worth it, we’ll fix it later!” Mulan was already halfway up, but at her lover’s urging she nodded and began her descent.

Before she could make it safely down, another wave crashed over the deck. The ship creaked as Regina and Emma spun the wheel to correct their course. Ariel gave another shriek as she clung to the mast. Killian had his gaze locked on Aurora, and so it was her shock and distress that alerted him first.

“Mulan!” She cried, and Aurora abandoned her post to rush through the ankle-height water to where her lover was. Killian strode as fast as he could to catch the loose ropes rebelling against their sails. He glanced over and saw the untethered shroud flapping in the gale above the prone body of Mulan. Aurora knelt over her lover’s unmoving form and shook her, pleading over and over for a sign of life.

“Aurora!” Emma’s sharp voice cut through her hysterics. “Get her to the infirmary!” Aurora nodded mutely, preparing to crawl toward the hatch. “But then I need you right back here, you got that?” There was no reply as the lady dragged Mulan across the deck.

Killian cast about for something he could fasten the stays to, but the rails were creaking and the metal tacts were slick. The storm was absolute and unrelenting, and the ship could not handle much more of its bombardment. Belle and Ruby were practically clinging to the ropes rather than holding them taut.

“Perhaps we ought to run aground!” Killian shouted to the Captain. “We can weather the storm on shore and get her moving once it passes!”

“It’s not gonna last much longer!” Regina called in reply. “We just have to hold on!”

“Your magic?” He asked, and she nodded distractedly.

There was a creak, and Killian glanced at the opening hatch. He expected to see Aurora there to relieve him. Instead, a shock of short brown hair appeared.

“Henry!” His own cry was echoed by Emma’s. The lad didn’t respond to either of them, staggering port side and grabbing onto the fraying ropes.

“Get out of here!” The Captain ordered him with increasing desperation. “Go help Granny in the infirmary! Just get below!”

“I can help, I swear!” Henry called back. He was indeed tightening the rigging and tying knots where the ropes were about to break. But he wasn’t strong enough to stand steady, hadn't experience with bucking tide like this.

“Damn it, Henry,” He heard Emma yell, “Listen to me!”

“Swan!” Regina’s frightened voice made Killian turn. The Captain had released the wheel, striding to the edge of the quarter deck to address the cabin boy. Regina’s white-knuckled grip on the wheel wasn’t enough to keep it from spinning wildly.

The wave came in an instant. It swept over the starboard side, knocking Killian to the deck. Saltwater stung his eyes. Distantly he heard a cry, beautiful and chilling in its despair. The continual sounds of crashing water echoed. When he could finally look up, Killian looked port side to where Henry had been. Henry was gone, swinging ropes were all that was left. His eyes swept over the deck in search, but instead of finding the lad, they noted another absence.

“Emma!” He yelled out, staggering to his feet.

“She went over.” Regina said, sounding numb in a way that made him even more afraid.

“Port side.” Ariel supplied, still clinging to the mast. “I-I…”

Without a second thought, Killian ran across the deck, grabbing up a coil of fallen rigging. Quickly he tied it around his waist and knotted the end around the most secure looking bit of railing. He tugged on it once, and satisfied it would hold, wasted no time in jumping off the deck and into the churning sea.

The water was murky and frothing as it lapped against the ship’s stern. Killian pushed off from the wood with his legs, glad he’d estimated the rope well. It was long enough to have him searching the water for some hint of the fallen mates.

He saw her first, her blonde hair billowing out around her. She didn’t seem conscious, immobile in the water. Bubbles slipped from her nose with alarming frequency. Killian swam towards her, thrashing through the current, and as he neared he could see her arm wrapped around the smaller form of the boy. Henry had his eyes shut, and looked in danger of sinking. Her hand was fisted tight on the collar of his jacket even in unconsciousness.

Killian had just enough rope to get to them before the current pulled them farther away. He slung his left arm around them both, digging his hook into the leather of her coat. It punctured, and he was certain it would hold her. With his hand, he pulled the three of them along the rope. They surfaced, Killian gasping for breath. The ship loomed ahead, but he saw Ruby and Belle leaning over the port side looking for them. Together they reeled in the line, and Killian and his two loads were hoisted up the side.

He landed on the deck, his waterlogged clothes weighing him down. Emma seemed to sputter to life at the impact. She coughed, water gurgling up from her lungs and hitting the deck. Belle knelt to pat her back, and Ruby lifted Henry up, still limp. Emma looked at her about to leave and held up a hand to stop her.

“Wait,” She rasped, “Let me—” A hacking fit cut her off.

“Emma, she has to get him to the infirmary.” Killian cut in, his voice thready with exertion. “Time is of the essence.” She must’ve understood him through her coughs, because Emma nodded. Ruby left, moving quickly across the deck.

Killian looked up, noting that the storm was indeed calming. Regina was at the wheel, seeming in control once again. There was discernible relief etched in her features that Killian imagined mirrored his own.

Belle helped them both to their feet, but she was needed at the sails. To his surprise, Emma went straight for the hatch, not bothering to posture at being in command. Killian followed, leaving Regina and Belle to weather the rest of the storm.

Emma strode forward through the berth, a maelstrom in her own right, but Killian was hot on her heels. "Swan, Emma, wait!" He reached for her elbow, but she yanked it away. He did succeed in halting her, because Emma whirled around to face him.

"I have to get to the infirmary." She grit out, voice still harsh with salt. "What the hell do you want?"

"What do I want?" Killian drew himself up, indignant and still reeling with adrenaline and fear. "I want to know what the bloody hell you were thinking."

"I _thought_ Henry was drowning!" Emma spat, taking a vicious step forward.

"Aye, so you decided he shouldn't die alone?" He responded with a sardonic tilt of his head. She looked as though he'd slapped her. Without a word, Emma turned and continued her trek to the infirmary. Undaunted, he chased after her. "You went in without a line and no way to get back aboard. You nearly drowned, Swan, do you know how—" Killian cut himself off.

The memory of her in the water, breath leaving her, pale skin waxen, listless in the current… It conjured a terrible amount of pain he hadn't anticipated. How long had it been since he felt so tethered to another's life? Surely the last person to cause him such pain was—

"Look," Her stern words broke through his rumination, "You may have a point." They had nearly reached the door, all the way at the bow, and from it they could make out the faintest agitation of voices. "I'll admit, I acted without thinking it through." Emma seemed a bit more contrite, though not as much as Killian felt was warranted.

"I've never known you to lose your head like that." He remarked, halting before the infirmary.

"Well," She conceded, hand on the doorknob, "It was more like listening to my heart." The door was being pushed open before he could inquire more. Turned out, he didn't need to.

"Mom!" In the center of the room, sitting up on a cot, Henry was awake and staring straight at Emma. She moved to his side without hesitation, and Killian stayed outside, watching. He dazedly noticed Ruby leading Aurora past him, but his gaze stayed on the boy and _his mother_. Emma held Henry's hand, looking at him was such adoration that it astounded Killian that he'd been unaware of it before.

"I'm sorry, mom." Henry said. "Killian told me I should stay below, but when I saw Mulan was hurt…"

"We were handling it." She murmured gently, raising her hand to stroke over his head. "You should trust us."

"I know, I'm sorry." He muttered, and Emma embraced him like he was all that was precious in the world.

She sighed into his hair, and her words drifted over to Killian. "I just want to keep you safe. I can't lose you."

In a rush of illumination, everything he knew about her seemed to click. Swan was far more than a pirate, a villain, serving merely her own ends. She fought for her son, to give him a better life. This was a woman who had not known much love. A lost girl who went on to collect as many lost souls to surround herself with. He saw himself in her lonely past, yet envied her present abundance of love.

Killian felt very much as if he were intruding on their moment. He wrenched his gaze from the tender scene. Granny was tending to an unconscious Mulan. She spread a poultice over a cloth bandage, then lay it over a wound on the warrior's forehead.

Killian ambled over to the matron's side. "What's her condition?" He asked, staring down at the cot where Mulan lay.

"When she fell, she clipped her head on the rail." Granny told him grimly. "The wound might fester, but I'm more worried about her waking up with all her marbles intact." They said nothing more, looking down at the fallen warrior. Their vigil was a companionable one, the first time he and the cook had been anything more than antagonistic.

“Killian.” The soft use of his name made him turn. Emma still held her boy’s hand, though Henry had by now fallen into a peaceful sleep. She was watching Killian instead, and her gaze still possessed some lingering trace of affection. He indulged in brief fantasy that her affection was directed at him, that he had earned her trust and won her heart. However he knew that this was not so.

“I need your help getting him to my cabin.” Emma requested of him, and he moved to her side before she even finished the sentence. “I used to be able to sling him over my shoulder, but he’s sprung up like a weed.”

Killian hoisted the lad up into his arms, carrying him bridal style. “I’ve carried rum barrels heavier than him.” She did not chuckle at his boasting, just turned and strode from the infirmary. This time Killian didn’t hurry after her, pausing a moment to exchange a look of understanding with Granny. She nodded at him, her gnarled fingers wrapped around Mulan’s pulse.

Emma was waiting by the steps up to the deck. She followed close behind as he ascended with his cargo, extremely mindful not to jostle the lad or collide him with the walls.

The air was calm when they surfaced, without a hint of the maelstrom of earlier. On deck, Belle and Ruby were at their posts. He could see Belle checking the damaged rails, no doubt planning the repairs. Regina was at the helm, guiding her through the subdued currents. She stiffened when her gaze fell on Henry, but a nod from Emma was all she needed to relax.

Emma led him to the door beneath the quarter deck. Eliciting a thrill of anticipation in him, she opened the door and invited him into her cabin. Killian ducked as he stepped inside, casting a thorough look around.

There were no extravagant riches adorning the walls, no telltale touches of personality, no keepsakes from her past. It was, unfortunately, quite what he expected from her: austere. There was a table shoved across the room, two rickety stools signifying where the family ate. There were some cast iron chains hanging from the ceiling in a corner that he was dying to inquire about, but the boy in his arms dampened any suggestive mood. There was just enough room for one bed by the aft window, large enough to fit two he noted, and a slim cot by the wall.

It was this he moved to. Emma turned down the covers as he approached, and he gently laid Henry down. He pulled his hook away, feeling the familiar fear of hurting someone unintentionally. Henry didn’t stir, and it made Killian smile slightly.

“He is well and truly out of it.” He remarked in an undertone.

“He’s slept like this ever since we got out to sea.” Emma murmured, pulling the blankets over him and tucking her son in. There was fondness evident in every move. Killian's heart felt as though someone was squeezing it. The scene might’ve been out of his darkest dreams.

“And how long ago was that?” He dared to ask. Emma tore her gaze away from her son to regard him. Killian knew his intentions were under scrutiny, and so he pushed all thoughts of desire or carnality away. Instead he showed only care and earnest curiosity.

She came to a decision, he could see it on her face. Turning from the bedside, Emma crossed the room to the table. She reached underneath and extracted a full bottle of amber liquor, then looked back at him expectantly. Killian moved to join her, settling on one of the precarious stools.

“I was eighteen when I had Henry.” Emma murmured as she pulled the stopper out. Killian listened intently, knowing that this moment was fragile and fleeting and therefore so very precious. “I was a thief, looking for a way out of town. I stole a horse and nearly got away with it, but the owner caught me. Or at least, I thought it was his horse. Turned out I’d tried to steal a stolen horse.”

She took a long gulp of the liquor, then handed him the bottle. He drank as well, finding it to be a grain alcohol, like whiskey. Somehow it too was characteristic to her.

“I was with him, the horse thief, for months. We worked well together robbing the country side and we never got caught.” Emma went on, and though there were no starry eyes or wistful sighs, Killian knew they had been more than partners in crime. “Until he told me he had some minted gold bars he’d stashed away. They bore a royal crest, and so he had abandoned them rather than get caught. I knew that if we had them melted down we could afford passage on a ship and escape to a better life.” The way she paused and drained a good portion of the bottle had his stomach roiling.

“What did he do to you?” He asked, fearing the answer.

“I'd collected the gold and was waiting for him to return from the smithy,” Emma said, staring at him, jaw hard, “When the royal guard arrived and placed me in chains.” Killian's eyes flitted to the chains in the corner. “I was to be hanged, but not one week before my execution I started showing.” He had to reach for the bottle at that. A young, vulnerable, pregnant Swan before the noose was an image he'd rather soon forget.

Emma’s gaze turned to Henry, still blissfully asleep. “There were pirates in the cells across from me. When they noticed my condition,” Her smirk turned wry, “They let me in on their escape plan. With the help of the rest of their crew on the outside and a bribed guard or two, we made off for their ship.”

He inclined his head. "This is a hard life for a young woman and a babe."

She didn't deny it. "I learned all I could about sailing and managing a crew, but I knew we couldn't stay there. They let us go at a far off port, outside the reach of my would-be executioners. We went straight for a couple years, but the sea has a way of calling you back." For the first time that conversation, her face held an inner light, and it was clear that she, like him, could not resist the tide's pull.

"And you never heard from his father again?" Killian had to ask, compulsively tapping his tense knuckles on the table.

"No, and I'm not eager for a reunion. He turned me in to hang for his crime. I'd be far too likely to run my sword through his chest." He couldn't agree more, despite having never met the man. Emma looked at him then, gaze clear of the past and focused entirely on him. "You understand why I might have trouble trusting people." She swept her arm out in an encompassing gesture. "I chose my crew because they're in the same situation: we're all running from something. Most of them don't even go by their real names." Emma was watching him intently, and he realized that, in her own way, she was apologizing. She knew that he wanted her, and this story was how she might let him down easy.

The only trouble was, Killian wasn't ready to let this go. Swirling the amber contents of the bottle, he leaned forward, the space between them at the small table shrinking even further. Her eyelids fluttered as she glanced down at his lips, and he was glad to be able to catch those glimpses of desire. It gave him hope, that wretched flighty thing, that perhaps this challenge could be won.

"Many years ago," He began, voice deep, rough, "I fell in love with a married woman. She came aboard my ship and we ran away together. We were happy, and she made a fine pirate. But time passed and we wanted more than riches; we wanted a family." Emma, so heartbreakingly briefly, touched his hand, smoothing over his worn fingers and his rings. "We went back, to the port that had been her home, to find the son she'd left with her husband. But her husband was a _coward_ ," He spat the word, "And a heartless man. When she arrived to claim her son, he murdered her in front of me." Killian raised his hook, glinting in the lamp light. "And gave a parting gift."

Emma said nothing. She didn't bother with condolences or platitudes. She didn't even reach out to touch him again. Their gaze held with total understanding, years of traumas and sentiments unsaid exchanged in the heavy silence. There was an acknowledgement on both sides that Emma and Killian, _Captain Swan_ and _Captain Hook_ , were kindred souls.

He left her when the lamp began to flicker, casting shadows on her face. He didn't need to bid her farewell with a flirtatious line or a heartfelt declaration. By virtue of disclosing his sins, his wounds, in return for hers, his statement was clear. Killian was not to be dissuaded. This pursuit was a worthy one, and though he had mere days left with her, he would make every moment count.

Falling onto his bunk, Killian drifted to sleep with green eyes aglow and cascades of blonde and soft pink lips dancing through his mind.


	3. Day 3: Part I

When he awoke the next day, Killian didn't dawdle in bed. He dressed quickly and departed his cabin to make straight for the infirmary. His boots thudded in his haste, and he was sure he was disrupting someone or other's sleep, but couldn't quite care.

The door flung open as he stepped inside, and Killian's whole body uncoiled. Mulan sat upright on her cot, crisp white bandage around her forehead, and her hand firmly within the hold of Aurora. If the besotted expression on her face as she gazed at her love was any indication, Mulan was fully aware of who she was. Both women turned to the open door, and seeing him sent sunny smiles his way.

"Mulan," Killian greeted her warmly as he approached her bedside, "You're looking well this morning."

"Better." She corrected him, though her smile didn't falter. "Granny says I'm not to exert myself today. Confined to bed rest until it's certain there are no lasting effects."

He inclined his head to her. "I've no doubt you'll be traversing the sails in no time." Aurora rose from her seat, and leaned over to give her love a lingering kiss.

"I'll fetch you some breakfast." She promised, and Mulan nodded with a slight blush. As Aurora passed him, she gave him a look that had him following her departure. They strode silently through the berth, and Killian was itching to ask why she desired his company, but knew the lass would reveal her intentions in due time.

Aurora entered the galley, and Killian looked around. It seemed breakfast was handled rather differently on this ship. Someone, Granny undoubtedly, had laid out bread and marmalade, along with some salted meats, for whomever might wander in and claim it. Made sense, he supposed, allowing the evening shift a lie in. 

"She'll be alright." Aurora said, and he didn't comment on the way he hand shook as she prepared some breakfast. "I need to thank you, Killian." She declared suddenly, as though the words had forced their way out at an inopportune time. Her intensity shook him, and he wasn't sure how to respond. "You took over for me while I was distraught." Aurora went on, rambling without pause. "I was told how you steadied the sails and held on through the waves, and when Henry and the Captain went overboard you saved them. You shouldn't have had to do all that, I abandoned my post, and in doing so put my shipmates in danger."

"No one can fault you for your actions." Killian butted in, voice unintentionally conveying his incredulity. "Your love was injured, she needed medical attention." Abruptly the knife clattered to the table as Aurora spun around. The look in her eyes was sad and a touch manic.

"I'm not a fainthearted damsel," She declared, "I shouldn't have let my emotions run wild like that, not at the expense of my duties."

"Fair enough." Killian said with a huff, deigning not to argue when she was so steadfast. "But understand, lass, there's no need to thank me. I did what I had to, it came naturally."

She paused in her self-recrimination, her head lilting to one side as she studied him. "Saving the Captain came naturally?"

His mouth dry, he replied, "I was referring to managing the sails." Aurora nodded, though there was a glint in her eye that suggested disbelief. Turning back to her breakfast, she completed her task so that there were four slices of bread with thick coatings of marmalade. Thinking one might be for him, Killian reached out as she neared, but without any hesitation she smacked his hand away like a stern mother.

"Mulan needs her strength." She tartly responded to his wounded look. Without looking back, Aurora left him in the galley.

Grumbling lightly, he set out to make his own meal. The fruit taste was a nice change from his usual breakfast of fish, and probably a good sight healthier. Granny's insistence on preventing scurvy was something he could respect, now that his petty feud with her was over. He mulled over the matron's absence, then imagined she'd had a late night caring for Mulan. She may have gone back to sleep after she set out breakfast.

After breakfast, Killian sauntered through the berth, wondering whether he ought to go aloft. Swan would surely not be there yet, and even if she were, he wasn’t sure whether he ought to approach her. It seemed odd to resume publicly flirting with her now that they’d exchanged such intimate private thoughts. Particularly when she would no doubt rebuff him under their scrutiny, when he wasn't positive she would do the same under different circumstances. Might he catch her alone today and test that? Lunch, perhaps? Or that evening, after dinner?

His mind conjured a fantasy, of arriving at her door with some pilfered wine. Her son would be conspicuously absent, and she would beckon him in with a suffering expression that belied her intrigue. Killian could picture her hair cascading down her back as she removed that heavy coat of hers, and she’d look over her shoulder at him, her gaze bewitching.

So enraptured by the Swan in his fantasy, Killian didn't see the door opening until he’d walked right into it.

“Oh Gods, I’m sorry!” Belle’s immediately recognizable voice exclaimed as Killian groaned, rubbing his jaw.

“Honest mistake.” He grumbled, the pain and jarring departure from fantasy making him uncharitable. When he was in a mood to notice, Killian saw her cross the hall to open a different door. This one was not a cabin, but seemed to be a storeroom for smaller, more personal items. Belle rooted through a drawer and extracted an inkwell. She turned and blushed when she realized he was still there.

“Haven’t you somewhere to be, Jones?” She asked pointedly, yet not rude. Belle was still possessing that regal sort of poise he’d come to recognize in her.

Killian shook his head, alight with new activity. “Not particularly.” She returned to her cabin, leaving the door ajar. He took her up on the wordless invitation, stepping over the threshold. “What is it you’re writing?” He asked when Belle picked up the parchment, nearly filled with tight precise lines of cursive. She dipped her quill in the fresh bottle, not looking at him.

“A letter.” She replied simply.

Killian hesitated, then voiced his suspicion. “To your former master?” The quill tip paused, a drop of ink falling onto the parchment.

Belle looked up at him, gaze steady. “Yes.” She answered, daring. “I think of him often. Every morning I draft him a letter, and I tuck it away, or burn it, or shred it and drop the pieces in the sea. I’ve never yet been able to send one.”

Killian ambled restlessly closer to her side. “So you’ve never once contacted him? After… How long?”

“Almost five years.” She looked out the porthole without seeing it. “Five years since he sent me from the castle and I didn’t return.” Belle glanced at him, as if he’d voiced some misconception. “Oh, he fully expected me not to come back. He was freeing me of my service, in his own way.” Her head bowed as she played with her fingers. “He’d begun to care for me, I think. As I had for him.”

“Then, permit me, my lady,” Killian said, giving in and sitting on the bunk beside her, “Why did you not return?”

“Because,” Belle sighed, “Being idle was never my nature. All my life I wanted to seek adventure, and I suppose when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t pass it up. It had nothing to do with him.” She paused, then amended, “That’s not quite true. I wasn’t sure he felt the same for me, or if he did have feelings for me whether they would be enough to overcome certain obstacles.” She smiled at him then, sad around the edges. “Had I taken the chance and asked him, I imagine our lives would be very different now. I’m content where I am so I suppose there’s no point in wondering.” Belle took her almost completed letter, and tore it down the middle. She repeated the action multiple times, and Killian watched the neat cursive be broken into illegible bits.

“What’s his name?” He asked once she was finished, the missive strewn about their feet. “Your former master?”

Belle hummed, regarding him intently. “I’d rather not say, to be frank. No aspersions on you, Jones, but if you knew, you might just think the worst of me.”

Killian huffed as he rose from the bed. “You ladies do like your mysteries. Makes getting to know you far more difficult.”

Her laughter was a light, tinkling thing. “I’m sure we all appreciate your efforts.” With a playful roll of his eyes, Killian turned to take his leave. “Oh, hang on. I never answered your question.” He looked back at her, bemused, replaying the conversation and finding no loose ends. “You asked whether I had been in contact with him at all in those five years. I didn’t give you a proper answer. I tear up the letters, but every time we dock in a township, I send him a single red rose. There’s never a note, but he must know they’re from me. I’m sure his castle is littered with them now, if he doesn’t just throw them away immediately.” She tittered a laugh, as if the possibility did not pain her in the slightest.

“If this is a man capable of winning your affections,” Killian offered, “Then he treasures every one. I’ve no doubt of it.”

Her face relaxed into an expression more honest. “Thank you.” She looked down at the paper scraps on her floor. “I ought to sweep these up.”

Killian turned to the door, carefully relieving her of looking at him as he said, “Or write another.” He left her cabin swiftly, coat tails flaring behind him.

He had the choice of going aloft or below, and Killian chose the latter. Descending into the more cramped corridor of the hold, he discerned the slight change in pressure, the moisture in the air and infused in the wood, that came from being below sea level. It was a familiar, if not pleasant, sense of space.

There was nothing immediately visible in the room, so Killian set out for the nearest door. He turned the handle, and meeting no resistance, stepped inside. It was dark, so he drew a match from his pocket and sparked it against his hook. There was a candle he discovered in a wall sconce, and he lit it and cast its light around the hold.

It became clear that this was not where the _Storybrooke_ kept its loot. No, the crates here were labeled by name. He could see one marked "Belle", another "Ruby", two labeled "Regina", and so on. Curious, he searched around for the one he'd be interested in. However, Swan didn't seem to have any personal possessions here. Stymied, Killian frowned until his eyes fell on the next best thing. A small crate had its name carved into the wood: "Henry."

Killian felt no compunction as he riffled through the lad's belongings. There were things that you might expect, toys that he'd had as a child, clothes he'd outgrown, books that wouldn't fit his shelf. One oddity was a large heavily bound book, unlike any of the sort in his room. Killian had the fleeting temptation to open it, but a more peculiar treasure caught his eye beneath it. Reaching in, he withdrew a soft, knitted baby blanket. As he turned it over in his hand, keeping it away from his hook lest it tear, Killian experienced a jolt when he encountered the neatly crocheted name _Emma_ on the edge. Directly below that, in a more sprawling hand, someone had added _Henry_. He gaped down at the trinket that held such implications.

"Found what you were looking for?" A sharp voice cut through the path his thoughts had taken. Killian glanced over his shoulder at Regina, looking down at him in contempt.

"Of a sort." He admitted as he grudgingly rose to his feet. She didn't look likely to throw him in the brig, but the witch was clearly displeased. "I humbly apologize for my intrusion." He offered simply.

"No you're not." Regina snapped. "You're neither humble, nor sorry, and I've no patience for liars."

Killian bowed with a supercilious flourish. "Then what would you have me do?"

"Come with me." Regina ordered him, a dark smile on her blood red lips. She looked menacing, and he tensed as he approached her. "I've got something that might interest you more than personal effects." She turned from the room, expecting him to follow. Killian did so apprehensively.

Her loose black overskirt trailed behind her as Regina led him through the hold.  They came to a door that she opened with a key. She cast him a conspiratorial look as she pushed the door ajar. The glowing reflection of innumerable amounts of gold met his eyes, and he couldn't help the lurch in his soul towards all those riches.

"As quartermaster," Regina said, slipping past him into the room edged with treasure, "It's my duty to mark down the shifts that everyone has worked and allot them their due wages." She sat at the desk in the center, where a log book was already set out. Killian wandered inside, though he didn't move to the heaps of gold coins on the shelves or the standing sculptures or any other gold.

"Why bring me along?" He asked as though he didn't suspect. "You're able to do this task on your own." Feeling spiteful, he added, "Or did you need help with the maths?"

Regina gave a soft chuckle, but her quill was brought down hard on the log book page. "No, no, I have my job under control." She pointedly did not look at him. "It does require quite a bit of attention." Her quill was poised delicately above the parchment. His unease grew. "It would be far too easy for someone to slip some coins into their pockets." There was no denying the heavy implication.

"You ought to be more vigilant then." Killian replied stonily. A beat of silence passed, and Regina turned in her chair to face him.

"You know, Hook," She drawled, using his moniker for the first time, "Everyone is aware of your desire to bed Swan." Although he had hardly been secretive in his regard for Emma, hearing it in the manner of a threat made Killian grind his teeth. "Many of the ladies think it cute." Regina went on, and she sounded carefully dismissive despite her malice. "Personally I neither care who Swan chooses to rut with, nor do I see your appeal." She stood elegantly, uncoiling like a snake. Their gazes were level and crackling with animosity. "What I _do_ see, Jones…" She breathed in his face, a parody of intimacy. "…Is a rotten," A harsh prod to his sternum, "Black hearted," Another, harder, " _Pirate_."

Killian mirrored her advance, leaning in so their mouths were scant inches apart, teeth nearly bared. "Takes one to know one, my lady." His taunt did not have the desired effect. Regina's painted lips peeled back over her grin.

"Precisely." She replied, and the witch turned her back on him in a gesture of disrespect. His jaw clenched, muscles jumping.

"No matter what you think of me," He protested vehemently, "I am here with good will. I didn't come to steal from you."

"You didn't come to bed Swan either." Regina remarked, sparing him a glance. "Crime of opportunity." She picked up a hefty gold brick, turning it over in her hands so it glistened. His gaze followed it despite himself.

"If you're trying to prove something, you should know I'm quite contrary." He said, more assured than he believed.

Regina hummed, then sauntered his way. "Fine then." She thrust the gold brick into his hand, which reacted without thought. "But be prepared for that black heart to break, Jones." She declared, seeming to relish the thought. "Swan's built her towering defenses, and I've yet to see a man scale them. And _you_ ," She sneered, "Are no match."

Any possible reply Killian could have made was preempted by a shout. "Regina!" Both turned to see Ruby screech to a halt in the doorway. "Ariel has sighted enemy ships bearing toward us." She reported, her gaze flitting between the two of them, standing particularly close. Regina shifted a respectable distance away from him. "The Captain needs your council, on the deck."

Regina didn't pause a moment in breezing past Ruby, leaving Killian alone in the stock room. He dallied too long, fighting his nature, before he rushed to follow. 

Catching up to Ruby on the steps up to the deck, she paused to murmur in his ear, "Playing with fire, aren't you?" Still unsettled by Regina's foreboding statements, his responding smirk was wooden and hollow.

When they rose up onto the deck, only Belle was performing her usual duties. She had climbed above the top sails and was tightening the rigging, and there was evidence of oakum where she’d patched damaged wood. Ariel and Swan were by the helm deep in conversation, and Regina and Ruby hastened to join them. Killian tarried at their heels.

“What's the situation?” Regina demanded as soon as she ascended to the quarter deck.

“Three war ships, navy colors.” Swan said grimly. “Bearing from the West. It’s the _Storybrooke_ they’re gunning for.”

Regina scoffed. “You’d think that little King would learn when to back down.”

“Three ships, fully armed.” Swan repeated, worry behind her steely tone. “He’s not playing around. We're talking fatalities here.” Everyone's breath seemed to catch. Killian thought back to his days as a Lieutenant, and knew that three elite war ships was excessive for a single pirate crew. For some kingdoms, that was practically the entire fleet. It was a testament to how feared these ladies were.

“We’ve fought them before.” Ruby pointed out, though she too seemed unsettled.

“We had Mulan in her best form.” Ariel countered, guilt evident from last night's hysterics.

“And Mary Margaret is still on _the Jolly Roger_.” Swan concluded.

“Simple solution to that.” Killian broke in, attracting all the women’s attentions. He lifted a single brow. “I pledge my ship to fight by your side.”

There was a stunned silence in his pronouncement’s wake. Regina looked as though he might've removed her tongue. Ariel had never seemed more like a fish out of water. Ruby stared at him with wide eyes, her single tell of utter shock. Emma had her mouth parted just slightly, and she seemed more touched than surprised if the barest brush of color on her cheeks was anything to go by.

“You, I mean...” She faltered and had to clear her throat. “Your crew would put down their lives to fight our battle?”

Killian gave a tense aborted shrug, unable to fully project ease he did not feel. “I do pay them for their obedience. And my men have no more favored hobby than spilling blue blood.”

“And I expect you want some payment for this act of chivalry.” Regina said, reclaiming the biting acidity he’d experienced from her in the hold. “A cut of whatever we seize once we dispatch these soldiers?”

Killian stepped towards her, and reached into his pocket. She tensed, imagining a weapon, but her hands still caught what he deposited into them. Regina looked down at the weight of the gold brick, and then met his heavy gaze.

“No.” He answered lowly. “I require nothing from you.” Turning to the Captain, who was looking between him and Regina with suspicion, he said, “I’d prefer to fight on _the Jolly Roger_. We should double back. I can return your first mate as well.” Emma said nothing, her eyelashes beating like butterfly wings. "Swan." Killian murmured, breaking her silent study. "Please allow me my return. If there is a chance she will go down, well," He grinned with forced humor, "Captain's tradition, isn't it?" That seemed to spur her into action.

"Of course." Emma said to him, several shades softer than anyone expected, including herself. Turning to her crew, she made up for her gentle tone with brusqueness. "Regina, ready to turn about. We'll be beating windward, so you'll have to fill the sails yourself." The witch nodded and gestured to Ariel to help her. Swan moved on to Ruby as the two descended the stairs. "Ruby, mount the guns. I want braces starboard, port, and as many as you can angle forward. And when that's done, inform the others to prepare for battle." The brunette nodded grimly and took off, plunging Emma and Killian into silence.

There were many assurances he could've given her. He could've defused the tension with a jest or suggestive turn of phrase. However, no words felt right as he shaped his tongue around them. To his surprise, Emma spoke first.

"I appreciate your doing this." She muttered, taking the opportunity to avoid his gaze by moving to the wheel. It was probably as close to a thank you as she could bear to come.

Killian came to stand by her side. "It's the honorable thing to do, love." He replied, and he meant it.

The sails were tacked, Regina signaling to the Captain that they were ready. The wood whimpered in protest as she spun it, still battered and damp from yesterday's storm. With precision, the ship did an about face. In the distance the tall masts of _the Jolly Roger_ could be seen.

At her Captain's wordless instruction, Regina held up both hands towards the _Storybrooke's_ sails. Though he'd been expecting it, it was still shocking to feel the gust of wind emanate from the witch to fill the canvas. The _Storybrooke_ picked up speed immediately.

“Save your magic, Regina." Swan called out. "We'll need it later.” She nodded, and the wind died down a fraction.

Killian glanced at Emma's profile, and was about to look away when she turned her head. "We'll be meeting her in moments. Best you let them know we mean to embark peacefully."

She needed space, he could see that. Well, Killian mused a touch bitterly, she'd have plenty of space when they were on different ships. As he left her to walk to the forecastle deck, he wondered whether this twist of fate meant his pursuit of Swan was over. A shame if it were true. Though he supposed he ought to have more pressing concerns than conquest at the moment.

Still, he cast one last look back at the Captain, standing strong at the wheel, her hair whipping wildly from the wind, the smooth curve of her face, before he turned his eyes on a beauty of a different sort. 

Killian put his boot up on the bowsprit, looking out at the silhouette of his beloved ship. He had rarely seen her like this, from another’s vantage point, and he was struck by her beauty for the countless time. She was brought closer by the minute, her towering figure growing larger as he watched.

“They told me you're going back.” Killian looked over at Henry, who had managed to sneak up on him in his reverie. Seeing the lad gave him an unexpected jolt of worry.

“Shouldn’t you be below?” He asked gruffly. “Is there not somewhere safe you can hide during the battle?”

Henry’s mouth twisted with prepubescent discontent. “I know what to do. I won't try anymore heroics, not after last night.” Killian wanted to inquire how he was feeling, but the boy blew past the mention of his near drowning. “Besides, Ariel says we’ve got at least another bell until the navy reaches us.” He squinted up at Killian’s stoic countenance. “Are you really gonna fight with us?”

“Aye.” He told Henry, seeing his answer inspire something like smugness in him.

This was confirmed when Henry said, “I knew it. You feel it too, don’t you?” Killian let his puzzled expression speak for him. Henry gestured widely with his arm. “All of us were alone until we came together. We’re better together. Being here, on the _Storybrooke_ , feels right. You feel it too, I know you do. It’s okay, you don’t have to be alone. You can be a part of something, here, with us.”

Killian didn’t respond for some time. He never liked to think of himself as lonely, but in some ways it was true. No brother, no lover. He had a first mate he respected, but they could hardly be called friends. The _Storybrooke_ had a camaraderie Killian had never witnessed before.

He recalled saying that there were only two things worth risking your life for: love and revenge. Yet there he was, about to do battle with ships he'd never seen before, and for what? This was hardly revenge. Love… he knew love. Knew its burning in your blood and its weight in your chest. Knew its obsession and cruelty and terror. This wasn't love, it wasn't even truly about Emma.

Killian may've been a pirate, he may've been a harsh man, his ledger might've been stained in blood. But he could not let the _Storybrooke's_ crew perish. He knew them, he respected them, he liked them. So while he had a way to prevent their demise, he would not hesitate to do so.

Apparently he'd found a third thing to add to his prior list: revenge, love, and _Storybrooke_.

But that didn't mean Henry's optimism would come to pass.

"Lad," He said, turning from the bow so he could kneel down and speak to Henry face to face, "I fight to keep you and your family safe, but that is all. Your hospitality and kindness has swayed my loyalties, but I am still the Captain who boarded this vessel two days ago. I know my place, and it is at the helm of _the Jolly Roger_." In a way, it would've been a relief to see the determined glint fade from Henry's eyes. But the boy wouldn't have been so damn charming if he gave up on his beliefs so easily. Giving into an affectionate impulse, Killian chucked him lightly under the chin. "Now do me a favor and promise you'll be safe. It wouldn't do to have any sacrifice of mine go to waste."

Henry frowned, his gaze falling, but he nodded. "Be careful, Killian." He said as he departed, thankfully with his back to Killian's frighteningly vulnerable reaction. He faced his ship once more, reigning in his emotions with ruthless efficiency.

 _The Jolly Roger_ was near enough now that he could attempt to signal. He waved his left arm, letting the light hitting his hook do the talking. One of his crew would notice and alert David.

Within moments he could see _the Jolly Roger_ drop anchor. She was ready for his return. As he retreated to the main deck, Belle had the gangplank ready by the port side. He spared her any conversation, knowing by her face that she was preparing for battle and intrusion would be unwelcome.

There was no huddle around the side, no farewells to be shared by the crew. They were pirates, the lot of them, and they were no strangers of death. Ruby and Regina and Ariel were all occupied with their tasks, and so Killian stood alone as the ships pulled abreast.

“Ahoy!” He called out to his men. “Make way for your Captain!” The jovial role was easy to step into. Belle dropped the plank between the ships and secured it, then stepped away, granting him a quick nod. Heaving a heavy breath, Killian rose onto the gangplank, looking out at the familiar planks and sails he called home.

"Wait." Emma said, and his body was obeying before he realized. His gaze tracked her descent from the helm. Without a word she stepped up on the gangplank to meet him. Killian had become so attuned to her that the faint hissing of nerves beneath her skin seems so loudly telegraphed, though he wouldn't have been able to point out her tells to another soul.

"Well, Jones, I never expected to say this…" Emma held out her hand for him. "It's been a pleasure." She told him. Looking back at her, he had the errant thought that, with the sun hitting them just so, her eyes were a green like the depths of the calmest sea.

"An honor." Killian replied, taking her hand and shaking it with aching finality. Their hands fell away from each other, and Emma looked away. Turning on his heel, Killian strode the short distance between the anchored ships.

David and Mary Margaret were by the rail expecting him. As he hopped down off the plank, he noted how close the two were to each other. No longer were they bickering, there was a scant couple inches between them, and their hands were brushing as if itching to reach out and grab hold.

"What is it?" David asked before Killian could speak. "Why have they sent you back?"

Killian sighed, addressing Mary Margaret for the most part. "There's enemy ships coming for the _Storybrooke_. I pledged my ship to aid in the battle."

"You—Really?" She asked, her thin dark brows pinched. "That's so…" She glanced in askance at David, who said nothing. "…Kind of you." The lass finished uncertainly.

Killian shot his first mate a look, but decided to rebuke him for whatever tales he’d been telling later. “Aye, I'm a bloody saint, but let's not waste time extolling my virtues." He gestured to the gangplank. "Your crew awaits, milady."

Instead of leaping at the chance, the lady hesitated. She turned to David, who met her in an intense gaze, and leaned in to whisper in his ear. Killian watched the expression on his first mate's face falter. Then, like an imp, Mary Margaret seemed to dance away, leaving both men in an uncomfortable impasse.

David cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you unharmed, Captain.” Killian brushed past him and made for the helm. Members of his crew were attending to their duties adequately, though their attention was on the _Storybrooke_. The other ship was removing its gangplank and weighing anchor, preparing to forge ahead.

“Aye,” Killian addressed his first mate as they arrived at the wheel, “And from what I’ve heard of this Mary Margaret, I should say the same of you.” Instead of bristling at the potential jab, David smiled faintly. It was a curious reaction, but as Killian watched the _Storybrooke_ depart, he knew he could pry later.

“What are our orders?” David asked, and that was the question. This was, he knew, not _the Jolly Roger_ ’s fight. There was still time to turn about and escape. The _Storybrooke_ would, in all likelihood be incapacitated at the very least by this battle. The logical thing, what would bring _the Jolly_ the most gain, would be abandon the other ship and return in time to finish them off and claim their goods and their territory.

“The men are not going to go along with this easily.” Killian told him in hushed tones. “Convince them. Tell them that those who do not wish to fight to the death may cower in the brig. But let them know that we do not flee from this battle. Even if I am the only one on deck, this ship _will_ be there.”

“It won’t just be you, Captain.” David said, his eyes firm. “I’ll be right there with you. And I’m sure I can win over some of these rats.”

“Good.” Killian replied with genuine relief. “Then the next step will be readying the guns, point them all off the bow and starboard side, I want to take the ships by surprise from the side. Make sure she’s in perfect order, we may need a quick getaway.”

“On it.” David nodded, and he strode swiftly down to the main deck, where the rest of the crew was milling about.

That was one thing about his first mate Killian always admired. While Killian could rally when emotions were high, or intimidate the men into line, David could talk the crew into just about anything. He did not merely make them follow orders, he inspired them to believe in the cause. Killian didn’t know quite how the man did it.

Sure enough, he could hear the murmurs as David rounded up some of the crew and spoke to them in a soft level tone. The task was well in hand, so Killian kept his attention on steering. It was immensely gratifying to have the wheel beneath his hands again. The callouses on his fingers matched her grooved wood perfectly. Tension he hadn’t perceived fell from his shoulders.

Killian lost track of time, not contemplating anything, simply experiencing the sensation of sailing. The aimless musing was broken when David appeared by his side.

“I thought you could use this.” He said, holding out Killian’s cutlass.

Killian took it from him with a nod. “Thanks, mate.” Securing the scabbard to his hip, his gaze dropped to the main deck. Many of the men were discussing in hushed tones, though no one seemed argumentative. “Have they agreed?” Killian asked.

“They will.” David said with confidence. “I made most of them see the light. The better men can turn the rest.” He looked over, a question burning in his eyes. “What persuaded you? You’re not exactly inclined to stick your neck out for just anyone.”

Killian’s lips curled in a mocking smile. “Whereas you are far too easily enamored by fluttering lashes and sobbing entreaties. That’s why I keep you in line.”

David rolled his eyes, and normally Killian wouldn’t tolerate disrespect from a crewman, but he was being harsh. “Fine,” The first mate said, “Don’t share. I’m sure your time aboard their ship was entirely uneventful.” Killian wanted to rebut that, because the time certainly felt transformative. But he supposed, as far as winning over Emma, nothing substantial had occurred, nothing like what David implied or could comprehend.

“Man the helm.” Killian ordered him, releasing the wheel. Obediently, David stepped forward to take his place. Striding off to the steps, Killian said over his shoulder, “And stay with _the Jolly Roger_ , no matter what happens.”

Descending to the main deck, he moved through the men without answering their inquisitive gazes. He only paused to address shoddy work, hoping his traditional scowl would discourage curiosity. Killian took his place at the bow, waiting for their enemy to come into sight. The wind was in their favor, and he allowed himself the optimism to believe their luck would carry on.

His spyglass scanned the horizon at just the right moment. Through its barrel, Killian could make out three frigates bearing fast toward them. The one in center was a little ahead of its compatriots, making a warhead formation. Killian reckoned the center had its guns facing forward, while the flanking ships had their loads on their sides. It was predictable in its efficiency.

Killian turned to his crew. “Alright mates, we’re nearly on them. Let’s give them a fight they’ll nigh soon forget!” The men let out a cheer from their battle stations, but they faltered in surprise. Killian followed their collective stares to the _Storybrooke_. All his hair stood on end.

There was an unmistakeable wave of magic emanating from the bow of the ship. Regina, he was certain, but the magic’s purpose was unclear. It wasn’t the obscuring fog from days ago. It appeared like a translucent barrier.

His hunch was proven correct as soon as the frigate fired its first barrage. The cannonballs soared toward the _Storybrooke_ , where upon meeting the magic barrier they disintegrated into sand.

Killian let out a triumphant whoop, then ordered, “Fire!” _The Jolly Roger_ ’s forecastle guns let out their payload. The cannonballs, just outside the expanse of the shield, flew toward the nearest ship, and Killian knew without needing to see the shrapnel fly that they’d pierced its side. The frigates, clearly revising their strategy now that there were two enemy ships rather than the anticipated one, spread out, the flanking ships advancing far enough to match the center.

It was a good move, but it allowed _the Jolly Roger_ and the _Storybrooke_ to slip between their defensive line. “Ahead!” Killian barked, turning on his heel. “And shift the braces to the sides!” The men did as he bade, and he looked out at their company. Swan must’ve had the same idea, because the _Storybrooke_ was advancing. She would reach the ships first, her speed magical.

David was turning the wheel sharply, estimating the narrow fit by eye. Though he was less adept at steering than his Captain, he’d manage it. Killian stalked over to the shroud and climbed aloft. The view was better from the main mast, and he could see the naval officers scurrying around.

“Broadside as soon as you’re able!” He bellowed down to David.

“You’re sure?” David called back, a note of concern to the question. “If you—“

“You have your orders, savvy?”

David’s reply came reluctantly. “Yes, Captain.”

Killian climbed higher until he found rigging suitable. He hacked at it’s fastenings until the rope hung free. Grabbing hold, Killian waited until the canvas of the frigates whispered past, their rigging nearly close enough to tangle. Then, with only a moment’s steadying breath, Killian leapt from the mast, the rope whistling through the air. It caught him, and he was propelled forward, swinging over the gap that led to a watery death.

Within moments of his feet hitting wood, he ran his blade through a man’s ribs. In a smooth motion, Killian drew his cutlass out, the red stain coming with it. He let go of the rope and got his bearings. Standard frigate vessel, large crew, probably a third of them on deck and armed, a dozen within immediate striking range. The element of surprise granted him precious minutes, and he did not waste them. Two more men fell the way of the first, a clean cut before they knew what hit them. It was as merciful as Captain Hook ever got.

His cutlass met its first resistance in the form of a sword wielded by a decorated officer. Lieutenant, as far as Killian could tell, and he would have to laugh about that later. This man was fresh faced with a willful challenge in his eye. Killian struck fiercely, and he blocked with only seconds to spare.

“Stand down,” said the Lieutenant, “And you may live.”

“Sorry to tell you, mate,” Killian replied with a broad grin, “I won't show you the same courtesy.” A couple swift jabs had the Lieutenant backed against the mast, his grip on his pommel shaky. He had the dawning desperation of one faced with death.

“We’re only after their wench of a Captain anyhow!” He cried out, and Killian did him the favor of slitting his throat before he could say more.

As the body slumped against the deck, Killian shrugged, quipping, “As am I.” He looked up at the nearest sailor with a sword and asked, “Are you going to pontificate as well, or may we duel?” Without waiting for an answer, he advanced with a downward swipe.

None of these sailors were masters by any means, but together they put up a good fight. They had the wherewithal to recognize their better, or perhaps they merely fought dirty, because Killian found himself fending off three or four men at a time. It was enough of a challenge that all his attention was required to keep parrying.

Killian could pinpoint the second when more fighters joined the fray. Just from the change in pitch and frequency of metal hitting metal, he knew it was their comrades in arms. Sure enough, he spied from his periphery a flash of red and blue, indicating Ruby and Belle were aboard as well. Though he’d been confident before, knowing they were behind him was a comfort.

They coordinated without needing to speak. Ruby went aft and Belle forward, and Killian remained center deck, by the hatch where more combatants were constantly ascending. Ruby would gain control of the helm in minutes, Killian estimated, but the second line of defense would come after her if he didn’t cut them down first. Good thing Killian was up for the challenge.

After 300 years, clashing with the Lost Boys over and over and over, fighting became ingrained, killing became natural. He’d butchered Ruffio, following about 2 centuries of the boy picking off his crew, strung up Pan’s right hand man for the rest of the Lost Boys to see. But the Shadow just kept bringing in reinforcements, so no matter how many children Killian had slain, there were always more.

At least these were men, who had pledged their lives without thought to consequence. Men who obeyed every order without question. Today they were assassins, sworn to kill people they did not know. They were only following orders, and if that led to their deaths, then so be it. Killian was merely the harbinger.

So once his sword or his hook delivered the fatal blow, Killian had no use for the fallen sailors. Bodies, that's all they were, littered the enemy’s deck. He had dispatched over two dozen of them. There were more below, Killian knew there had to be, but those were the cowards, the runts, the last line of defense.

Without warning there was a blast of canon fire, and the deck swayed beneath their feet. _The Jolly Roger_ had fired all its munitions into the hull of the frigate, just as Killian had ordered. The navy ship would take on water soon, leaving the cowards to either bale her out, or come aloft. Belle and Ruby would be more than capable of seeing to them.

Looking back to _the Jolly Roger_ , the sight of pristine blue uniforms clashing with his crew set Killian’s teeth on edge. He’d known they would board his ship eventually, but it was unsettling how soon they had advanced. They must’ve caused the delay in firing her canons. He could see David tangling with one on by the helm, and though he trusted his first mate, it was too close for his comfort.

Turning toward the bow, Killian called out, “Belle!”

“Aye,” She called back, “I’m here, I’m alright.” That was relieving to hear, but not his main issue.

“I must return to my ship!” He told her. “The bastards have nearly taken her!”

“Go!” Belle said. “We can manage here!”

Killian nodded, though no one was there to see, and strode toward his ship. Either it was Ruby’s doing or merely the result of drifting, the ships were much closer together. Forgoing a rope and leaving it to chance, Killian took a running leap. It was a shaky landing, but he made it.

“If you’re after _the Jolly Roger_ ,” He shouted, garnering the officers’ attention, “I’m the man to go through!” One of them ran at him, and Killian blocked his swipe. With a single kick, he unbalanced the enemy and sent him tumbling over the rail.

Killian fought his way through the men until he reached David’s side. His first mate was wrestling with one, but a sharp jab of his elbow to the back of the man’s head quickly ended that fight. David rounded on another, and Killian was in his line of sight, wrenching an enemy from his helm.

“Back already?” David said, slightly winded. He kicked a man hard so he fell onto the deck. “Beat them all, did you?”

“Thought you could use the exercise!” Killian rejoined cheerfully, stabbing someone right in the gut. He turned to see how his banter was received, and the smirk slipped from his face. “Behind you!”

David didn’t have time to turn and see the sword descending. Before the blow could land, there was a sharp whistle and the enemy cried out in pain. The sword clattered as its owner went limp. Killian and David gaped at the arrow buried deep in the man’s back. Despite his near brush with death, David relaxed, a fond smile taking hold.

“Mary Margret.” He murmured, close to reverent. Killian glanced out to the _Storybrooke_ , searching out the archer. She was visible only in that she was a firing frenzy, the woman behind the volley of arrows indistinct. David’s faith in the lass should have been surprising, but after witnessing what Swan’s crew was like, Killian would believe them capable of anything.

“Don’t get all besotted on me now.” He muttered to David, despite his understanding. “I still count ten unwelcome visitors on the main deck, and they will keep coming.”

“Do you have a plan?” David asked.

Shrugging, Killian replied, “You get down there and restore order, I’ll come up with something quick.”

“Fine, I’ll do the heavy lifting, shall I?” His first mate snarked, then David was vaulting over the rail with his sword drawn. The flurry of metal meeting metal spoke to his prowess, even if Killian couldn’t see him.

Thinking quickly, Killian hovered by the top of the steps, surveying his ship. There were scuffles everywhere, and the navy men were taking whatever opportunities they could to sabotage _the Jolly Roger_. One closest was hacking at the rigging of the main mast with movements fueled by fear.

Lifting his chin, Killian called out, “Leave those ropes alone, you tosser, and fight someone who can actually defend himself!” Predictably, the man looked up, paling once he saw whose attention he’d attracted. Killian brandished his hook at him in a beckoning motion. Despite his trepidation, the man put on a tough face and charged up the steps.

All his opponent’s energy went into a downward slice that Killian blocked. The man stumbled once his attack was deflected, and Killian used the momentary opening to slice through his enemy’s stomach. The blood seeped from the wound, and a gurgling groan escaped his throat as the man met Killian's gaze with blank horror. Before the body could slump to the floor, he dug his hook into the man’s neck, feeling sinew tear and more blood gush with the last pumps of the heart.

“Oi!” Killian bit out with all the rage and fierceness he possessed. The navy men, along with most of the rest of the lot, turned on instinct at his commanding tone.  Killian raised his arm and the body rose with it, its heavy weight dangling limply. “Either prepare to die by my hook or get off my ship!” The sight of their comrade strung up like a fish stunned enough of the enemy that Killian’s crew was able to gain the upper hand. David, he knew, was incapacitating his foes without pause.

The snap of sails unfurling made Killian swing his head around. The center frigate had released its rigging and was being picked up by the wind. She was showing her heels, the cowards. Killian had the thought that _the Jolly Roger_ could give chase, until his eyes alighted on an arresting sight.

In the center of the main deck, Captain Swan was surrounded on all sides by the enemy. She stood alone, constantly circling as she fended off their attacks, her sword a glimmering ephemeral thing of motion. There were none of her crew on board, and in spite of her skill she would be overpowered. The ship wasn’t fleeing, Killian realized, it was making off with its prize.

Without needing to think, Killian pulled his hook from the corpse and dashed to the stern. The wind was carrying the frigate fast, and there were only moments available. Killian cut a rope, not bothering to investigate its purpose, and backed up. Sword between his teeth and the rope coiled around his hand, he readied himself to leap.

As he ran at full speed, he could hear David yell out in alarm, “Captain!” But Killian was already airborne. The frigate was swiftly departing, and for a second Killian felt a shiver of fear. His hook flailed outward right as he released the rope, having reached the end of its arc. Abruptly, his arm was yanked as his hook found purchase. The tearing of canvas told him he’d caught the sail. It decelerated him enough that he landed firmly on both feet and without pain.

His body turned, finding her as easily as a compass pointing North. Her back was to him, pressed as tightly as she dared to the mast. Four foes formed a half circle around her, their movements without tandem, a reckless barrage of steel on steel. Emma was grace under fire, but even she would be worn down. These four men seemed to be the last fighters, enough blood staining the boards to indicate their fallen fellows. There was one man Killian could see behind the helm, the Captain or first mate perhaps.

Before he had made a move, Killian saw one of the men on her periphery dart his blade forward. Killian advanced, but his assistance was not needed. A well-placed kick made an opening in their ranks that Emma slipped through. She was saved from the fatal blow, but it left her exposed for the men to regroup around her.

His moment had come, and Killian moved swiftly. Though he was a man of action and longed to dive into the fray, he had no illusions that she would react calmly to the unexpected.

“Swan!” He called out.

“Killian?” She replied, with obvious surprise. He wanted to respond, but it was not merely her attention he had drawn.

One of the two nearest men moved to intercept, placing himself bodily between Killian and Emma. This would be a fatal mistake, Killian would see to it. A downward arcing swing had the sailor parrying high, allowing Killian to send a harsh kick to his stomach. The man was sent sprawling to the deck, still conscious. Killian took advantage of his momentary removal from the fight, and stepped past.

Though Swan was countering multiple attacks, her stance was strong. His back molded to hers perfectly, and she leaned into him for support. She took a step to the right and he mirrored it, a calculated move so Killian could parry and draw the attacks of another enemy. Their foes were evenly split now, two for Swan and two for Killian, the man he’d knocked back having returned with an ugly expression.

“Nice of you to join us.” Emma murmured, the exertion in her voice not overtaking her playfulness. “Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”

Killian tutted, deflecting the over-aggressive cuts from the sailor, wounded more in pride than body. “So egotistical, Swan.” He delivered a riposte and added a warning kick. “Not everything is about you.” As he parried, a swipe from the other man met his left arm. His hook blocked a second slice, but Killian grunted in pain as it strained the nick on his arm.

“Killian!” Emma shouted in concern, the sounds of her fighting a constant melody.

“I’m alright.” He told her calmly as he gave the man who injured him an answering jab to his kidneys. “Just a scratch!” Another horizontal cut across his gut had the sailor falling to his knees, and the brutal connection of hook to head delivered him to his fate. That left only one enemy for him to see to.

“Surrender,” Commanded one of the men Swan was engaged with, “And we will spare your man’s life!”

“He’s not my man.” She scoffed, and the cry of pain from the prior voice told him enough. “And you’ve no chance of taking him.”

“Too right.” Killian agreed, and he swung upward with his cutlass, ducking beneath his opponent’s blade, the point slicing cleanly into his throat. The neck wound gurgled as its host fell to the deck.

Freed from his own battle, Killian swung around so he stood at Swan’s side. There was merely one man standing before them now, hanging back as he reassessed the numbers. A Captain, by his decorations. That meant the man at the helm was either the first mate or lower, and Killian liked his odds. He chanced a glance at Swan, sussing out how she was faring. Sweat ran down her face, and there were twin blooms of red on her cheeks, but her eyes were hard and determined.

“Think you can handle this tosser while I adjust our heading?” He asked her.

Emma let out a low laugh. “Please do.”

Needing no further encouragement, Killian strode off toward the stern. The Captain attempted to head him off, but Emma’s blade swiping down prevented him. From behind him, he heard her engage the Captain in a fierce duel certain to end in his death. He smirked as he indulged in glancing over his shoulder. Her movements were as graceful and precise as when they practiced dueling the day before. Only now Emma wasn’t holding back.

Killian took the steps two at a time, emerging on the deck. The man behind the wheel started, the stench of fear dripping from him. Younger than most of his fellows, a novice. Killian narrowed his eyes, flashing his teeth in his grin. The man backed away from the wheel and drew his sword.

“Wrong move, mate.” Killian told him as he advanced. “You should’ve jumped overboard.” Then he was darting forward, the man’s parry nearly too late to prevent the jab through his ribs.

Killian gave no quarter as he attacked, mixing diagonal cuts that kept the man unbalanced with sharp straight jabs. The man was unsteady and already worn down, but he was faring admirably. Killian sidestepped, putting his back to the wheel, and forced the man back with a wide swing. Seeing the man hesitant to counterattack, Killian beckoned him with his hook and a raised brow. It made the man reckless in his rejoinder.

A step too quick left his stance shaky, and his one-handed grip on the hilt was slick with sweat. Killian twisted the sword neatly from his opponent’s hand. It fell between them, and he kicked it backwards to clatter somewhere on the main deck. Empty handed, the man stared at Killian head on. His fear, it seemed, had receded to blank resignation.

“This was not your day, lad.” Killian remarked, staying where he stood. The man didn’t attempt to run. As much as the predator in him relished a chase, Killian felt a thrill at the submission he showed. “Being a fair man, I’ll give you a choice.” Killian said, pointing with his cutlass to the port side. “You jump, or I run you through with my blade.” The man looked over the side, where the sea roiled. Then he faced Killian once more.

“I stay with my ship, sir.” He announced without a tremor in his voice.

Any exuberance fled Killian. Grimly he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Why?” The man replied, head tilting in puzzlement.

“Because you’ve shown courage and honor this day,” Killian told him, “And you deserve to die with someone knowing who you are.”

The man was silent, swallowing thickly, then said, “Jim. My name is Jim.”

“Jim.” Killian nodded, and then in one long stride forward, his cutlass was slipping through Jim’s ribs, piercing his heart and killing him instantly. He drew back quickly, sparing Jim the indignity of hanging off the blade. He fell to the deck as Killian dropped the weapon to blame. Rounding the body, Killian stooped down to drag him aftward by the boots.

Inwardly Killian recited words he barely recalled. Words of mourning, issued by superior officers and any pirate with a superstitious streak. He rather doubted it helped anything, but it couldn’t hurt either. His rites done, a single push sent Jim to his watery grave.

Killian looked back to the battle where the _Storybrooke_ , _the Jolly Roger_ , and the two remaining naval ships were still engaged. They hadn’t drifted far, wouldn’t take but a moment to get back to the action. He bent to reclaim his sword, and wiped it on his trousers before sheathing it. Striding to the wheel, Killian spun them around to return to the others.

As he did so, he found his gaze wandering to the fight on the main deck. Swan had taken the offensive now the Captain was alone. Circling him and maneuvering the man exactly where she desired, her control over the duel was evident. She didn’t need to embellish with kicks or punches, her mastery of the sword was enough. Swan moved with a fearsome power, and he was forcibly reminded of her moniker: _siren_.

Without adjusting the sails, navigating their path was difficult. The larger frigate was more unwieldily than the brig he was accustomed to. Killian could manage, he _was_ a hell of a Captain after all, but it would be easier if the canvas wasn’t fighting them. Once Swan was finished with her duel, he could entrust trimming the sails to her.

He was pleased to note, as they drew closer, that _the Jolly Roger_ was holding her own in his absence. She had pulled ahead of one of the frigate, standing to her forefoot preventing a retreat. David’s planning, no doubt. Even without the sails, the current was in their favor and they would reach her within minutes.

A cry turned Killian’s head. He looked down to see Swan towering over the supine Captain clutching his bloody thigh. Downed and without his sword, he had no hope of turning the fight. He ought to have bowed out gracefully. Instead, his face twisted with malice, the Captain leaned up to hiss at her. Killian was glad he couldn’t hear whatever vitriol he was spewing. It must’ve been insulting enough, or perhaps this was a side of her he’d yet to see, because Swan did not hesitate to smoothly run her cutlass through his abdomen.

Straightening, her gaze sought him out behind the wheel. Killian met her look with his own, taking her in. Her body was loose, the danger having passed. Without thought his eyes raked over her, inspecting for injury. None of her clothes were torn, he was glad to see, but there was a bruise blossoming on her jaw. It didn’t mar the beauty of her face, all hard lines smoothed as she watched him.

She strode up the steps to join him at the helm. “How bad were you hit?” She asked without preamble. Killian glanced down at his arm. The sleeve was ripped, but he hadn’t felt the pain for a while.

“Adrenaline’s making fine work of it.” He answered with a smile. From her expression it did nothing to assuage her concern. Killian grew serious, adding, “I’ll be alright, Swan. I’ve had worse scrapes,” He gestured with his hook, “Obviously.” Nodding to _the Jolly Roger_ , he said, “I’d best get back. They’ve no idea how to manage without me.”

Emma’s green eyes were strangely soft, but she seemed to shake herself out of the emotion before he could determine it. She nodded with her usual brusque determination. There was, he reflected behind a neutral exterior, something heartbreaking about the fact that everything between them thus far has been treated like a business arrangement. Killian would give just about anything for these days together to have been forged under different circumstances.

“I’ll take over the wheel,” said Swan, stepping closer into his space, “We’ll pull alongside her starboard.”

“Right, love.” Killian said, relinquishing the wheel and moving away. The latter was aborted as firm hands seized his collar and dragged him in. There was merely a second of warning before Emma’s mouth descended on his in a harsh, unrelenting kiss.

Her lips were as powerful as she, but soft, soft as petals on a rose, soft as her eyes when she was vulnerable. As she was now, he realized, because underneath the demanding embrace there was desperation. It was in her fingers curled around the back of his head, in the high pitched intake of breath through her nose, in the tight seal of her lips around his. His brow furrowed, partially conceived questions flitting about his mind.

Their mouths broke apart, her hands still clutching him close, their foreheads pressed together. It was her low moan as she exhaled that did him in. He tilted his head up, as she did the same, and their lips met again, Killian taking more control of the kiss now he could move properly. Their movements were faster, fingers gripping and tangling and touching as much as they dared. Killian clung to her as though she was all that was keeping him afloat. He could feel her shudder pass through them both.

With a faint whimper, Emma pushed herself off of him, though she held his collar fast. Their faces scant inches apart, her breath was his breath. Killian could not force his eyes fully open.

“That was…” There were no words for the feeling she inspired, or at least none that could take form in his scattered, slack-jawed mind.

“A thank you.” Emma murmured, and for a moment their lips whispered against each other and Killian parted his in hope of another kiss. But, hands detaching from his coat, she took a jarring step back. Killian stared at her, dumbstruck, as she turned from him to assume a position behind the wheel. “Return to your ship, Jones, and keep a weather eye open. I’ll drop anchor and join the fight soon. If we all make it out, my crew will find you.” She refused to look at him, the blush on her cheeks traveling down her neck to where her breasts vanished beneath her shirt.

Killian inclined his head, saying as gently as possible, “As you wish.” He thought he could discern a slight smirk gracing her lips, but she didn’t turn to confirm it.

His feet propelled him of their own volition to the port side, where sure enough Emma was aligning them beside _the Jolly Roger_. Displaying masterful steering, she got them near enough that Killian could jump across the rails with ease. He climbed up, steadying himself with the nearby shroud. Without glancing back, Killian leapt and cleared the gap.

Though the battle waged on, their enemies were dwindling, and Killian chanced a look behind him. At the helm, back straight and imposing, Emma held his gaze for all of a few seconds, allowing him a glimpse of her highly guarded tenderness. Then she was spinning the wheel and the ship was careening away, off to find a more strategic point to drop anchor.

Killian drew his cutlass, wrenching himself away from her retreating visage. The ghost of her kiss still lingered, on his lips, his fingertips, his front where she pressed against him. Without meaning to his treacherous fingers had wandered up to press his lips, as if in hope of keeping her touch there. Feeling foolish, Killian shook out his limbs, eyes darting to find an enemy combatant. His blood was boiling, and he knew exactly how to appease the hunger inside him.

There, two men cowering against the bowsprit, their blue uniforms no longer up to navy standards. Killian grinned and set off, bounding after his prey.

He would fight with all he had. Perhaps the shedding of blood would soothe the ache she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may have gone overboard with this chapter. It's quickly doubled in size, and I thought I should split it up. The next chapter, I don't intend to be this long, but I haven't written it yet, so what do I know?
> 
> Gold star if you can count all the parallels to the show.


End file.
